


Nemurerumorinobijo - Sleeping Beauty

by KeiKatayama



Category: Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Chapter 10 they finally meet, Chapter 4 non-explicit non-consensual elements, Chapter 9 non-graphic violence, Christophe's unrequited crush, First Dates, First handjobs, Georgi gets his Maleficent moment, Growing Up, How Yuuri got his skates..., M/M, Making Out, Mari is BADASS, Masumi as Christophe's boyfriend, Mila is BADASS, Old Japan/Imperial Russia setting, Phichit Guang Hong and Leo as The Three Grand Prix Fairies... and they're just as useless, References to Episode 7, Relationship Discussions, Sakura Festival, Sleeping Beauty AU, Slow build-up - Victor and Yuuri through their childhoods, Spinning wheel spindles becomes Anxiety, The Amazing Talents of Makkachin, The Third Gift becomes Strength, The mysterious tale of Victor's mother, The tale of the book through the window, They finally meet..., They'll still skate a bit, Victor and Christophe go to boarding school, Victor spelt Victor, Why Victor cut his hair..., Yule aka Christmas, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, Yuuri spelt Yuri, Yuuri's nightmares, on love: eros, world-building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 151,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiKatayama/pseuds/KeiKatayama
Summary: Sleeping Beauty reimagined with the Yuri!!! On Ice cast!Lord and Lady Katsuki are blessed by the birth of their son, Lord Katsuki Yuri (Yuuri, using official spelling), and all the neighbouring clans are invited to celebrate his birth, including the Feltsman clan, and their son and heir, Victor. But, just as the Three Grand Prix Fairies (Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo) bestow their magical gifts, Georgi arrives and curses Yuri to be devoured by demons that will plague him all his life.And so the Fairies secret little Yuri away, and Victor is left with no little Piglet to play with for many years to come.Latest Chapter: Yuri goes travelling...





	1. Prologue, I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Deep breath...*
> 
> Btw, for new-comers to my work, I use the spellings for names from the English subtitles and official marketing of the anime. So Yuri (was tempted to use Yuuri, to fit with pretty much everyone else, but technically it should be Yūri... and I can't be bothered with that!), Victor, Sala (why does everyone say 'Sara'? Given that 'l' doesn't naturally appear in the Japanese language, yet there they all are using it... I don't get it, have I just been hearing things?).
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Here we go...

_A boy - a young man really - burst out of a lonely place and sprinted for his life._

_No matter how many times he looked back, or tried not to and focus on just running, he couldn't shake what chased him into the dark._

_He ran like the earth itself would crack beneath him, would swallow him whole. Then, just as he got to the one place he had always counted on to bear his weight, it did exactly as he feared..._

_The life of Lord Katsuki Yuri flashed before his eyes as the ice broke._

* * *

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Once upon a time... Is that not how these things go?

The times were good. The two great clans - of Katsuki in the East and Feltsman in the West - were at peace, forged from Lord Yakov's iron wisdom and Lord Toshiya's easy amiability. Rumour has it that the old feuds of their fathers were settled over too much sake; those who were there swear that Lord Yakov actually laughed -  _laughed_ \- at Lord Toshiya's drunken antics one evening in their youths, before either took rein. Their reputations were evidently at stake; bow and shake hands instead, for both would soon have children, and would learn that they would be far too busy to care about war.

Or so the Red Raven likes to tell the story, but you're better off ignoring her. She does like to embellish... and interfere.

This peace was never more tested when the Katsuki Clan rejoiced, for Lady Hiroko had given birth to a son. The newborn's sister was old enough to roll her eyes at the jubilation of her elders, but continued to smile down at her little brother whenever she had a break from her studies.  _I'll always support you_ , young Lady Mari promised silently, kissing her baby brother's shock of black hair that refused to fall out, and she tried not to smirk when she handed the baby over to Lord Minami and little Yuri started bawling.

For little Lord Yuri slept soundly only in arms of his family. No one else's.

The neighbouring clans descended to welcome the new Katsuki heir into the world to celebrate, to honour the boy ("did they all make such a fuss when  _I_ was born?" Lady Mari commented sardonically. At seven years old, she was already a little fed up with the world), the one who would undoubtedly continue the peace that had long endured and brought prosperity to the land. Everyone had come to Hasetsu castle, the seat of the Katsuki's rein; Lord and Lady Giacometti, and their one year old son Christophe; the Crispino clan; the Lee clan; the Nekola clan; and of course Lord and Lady Feltsman. Lord Yakov even bore a faint smile as he inspected the infant in its cradle. His own son and heir, only three years old, took one look at the baby and looked up at Lady Mari with a grin.

"He's like a little piglet! He's cute!"

And then everyone bowed low as the party welcomed the Three Grand Prix Fairies of Sian, Qin and Columbia. Long allies and friends of Lord Toshiya and his wife Lady Hiroko, they had come to grace the new lord with...

Guang Hong Ji, a tiny elfin Xin fairy from the east, blushed as he gifted the child with beauty, with grace, with elegance, to brighten the days of all who looked upon him.

Leo De La Iglesia, from the Wild West across the seas, gifted the baby with talent, passion, intelligence, creativity, so that he might brighten his own days with imagination.

And Phichit Chulanont, from the South... quickly forgot what his gift was going to be as the Great Wizard Georgi of Popovich crashed the proceedings.

With shadowed eyes and stiff hair, the Wizard berated the guests for attending without inviting him, for being so insensitive to his feelings. With dramatic, flailing arms, he ignored the protests of the calm and ever hospitable Lord Toshiya, and Georgi missed his familiar, the Red Raven, trying not to laugh under her wing from his shoulder.

"Enough! Here is  _my_ gift to your precious son, your next-in-line!" Georgi declared. "Indeed the new Lord Katsuki will be incredibly handsome, taller than his forebears, with sleek black hair and with eyes large to bare a soul of equal inner beauty. He may keep your gifts, such as they are, wing'd fae."

The Three Fairies bristled at the slight. No mere fireworks those had been to pull off.

"But it will matter not. Such gifts will not withstand the shadows of demons that will hound your boy his whole life, until upon his twenty-first birthday, they'll devour him whole!"

And, with the damage done, the curse made and a family left helpless to save the innocent newborn, Georgi vanished into the dark before anyone could even try to stop him.

As Lady Mari cried over her brother, even as she shushed him, the baby crying from being disturbed by all the commotion, their parents stared hopelessly at the scorch marks left by the cruel Wizard, without a clue of what to do.

Lord Yakov worked himself up into a furious rage, even as his wife tried to calm him, and their young son stared, shocked, and clung to the sleeve of Lady Mari's kimono. He didn't understand... it was only a boring christening, how was it the baby's fault the Wizard wasn't invited? That was mean.

Then the last fairy stepped forward, clearing his throat, to offer what help he could. Phichit couldn't take back Georgi's curse, but...

"Little Yuri, here is my gift to you; no matter what darkness comes... I give you strength, to bear it. I give you stubbornness, to never give up. And I give you just a little bit of humour, so that you can bear the strength and stubbornness."

The spell popped like a bubble over the baby's head, and the moisture sprinkled over his face, into his big brown eyes... oops. Lord Katsuki Yuri never saw properly again.

* * *

I

* * *

Conferences were held, to find a solution. The peace was to pass this ultimate test, for genuine friendships had been long forged by it, and friends stick together. Lord Yakov was already ordering his armies to sweep the land for demons, for what good it would do, and Lord Toshiya numbly thanked him, assigned the Hasetsu Ninjas to assist. Lady Hiroko tried not to dwell on it as she fed her son, or as she helped her daughter try to focus on her education. Lady Mari paced, needing a habit of some kind to break her nerves, angry that she might not have what it took to keep her promise to her little brother; an ultimate failure as his older sister. She was only seven, already so serious.

Finally, a string of terrible ideas came together, and one good one. The good one first; Mari started humming to herself as she paced, and her baby brother gurgled happily and kicked his chubby little legs without rhythm in his cradle. Equally unaware of the magnitude of what was going on around him, little Lord Feltsman laughed and picked up the baby before Mari could stop him, and sang some more too, swaying awkwardly around the nursery with Lady Mari nervously holding him upright, amazed that little Yuri was silent. Very silent. Then Lord Victor cried as the baby pulled on his silvery-blond hair, hypnotised, and the moment was somewhat ruined. Or immortalised.

That was Lord Katsuki Yuri's first dancing lesson.

As for the bad...

"We'll take him far away, to somewhere safe, somewhere Georgi can't find him, somewhere even demons can't go, let alone find him."

The fairies meant well. Unfortunately, that doesn't always matter. But in fairy tales... well.

So, with the reluctant consent of Lord and Lady Katsuki, a raised eyebrow from Lord Yakov (he  _always_ thought it was a bad idea, said so then, but respectfully never said it again), and many tears from Lady Mari, the fairies smuggled a tiny baby out of Hasetsu Castle and disappeared into places unknown.

Time passed. Lord Yakov found no demons, apologised to his friend for his failure, and took his wife and son home. Life resumed, and the clan mourned the loss of Lord Toshiya's heir, hoping against hope that the Three Grand Prix Fairies knew what they were doing.

They didn't. Were it not for magic... let's not dwell on what could have happened to Lord Yuri.

But in the mystical bamboo forests that bordered the world of clans and the worlds of fairies, a young boy with enormous brown eyes hidden behind blue-framed spectacles and messy black hair snuck out of his bedroom, past the bedrooms of his three guardians, and even though he was carrying several pounds of extra flab over his body he still ran, stumbling every now and then on foal-like legs all the way to his favourite hideout, with a determination he had never felt before, or so he thought anyway.

Takeshi Nishigori was going to eat ice. And never call Yuri 'fatty' again.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> So...
> 
> Err...
> 
> What do you think? :-S This story is a work in progress, but it is more or less fleshed out in my head, the finer detail will come as I go along. I'm really not sure about this one though, so PLEASE... leave feedback. Be harsh; if you think it's shit, then... well, don't be a dick about it, but tell me the premise or the style or whatever doesn't work. If you like it, please tell me what about it you like. I want this work to be collaborative in a way, for it to be... like a willow tree; bends with the wind. So let me know which way the wind blows, please.


	2. II-III

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

II

* * *

Lord Victor didn't know this, and would not figure it out for many years to come, but by the time he attended the christening of Lord Katsuki Yuri that went so badly wrong, his life was already in the midst of changing. At the time he wasn't at all aware, but he could hardly be blamed for that; that was due to the deliberations of the adults around him, who... well, they thought they knew best.

His mother used to wake him every morning with bright smiles and kisses. One morning, some time after they returned from Hasetsu, she didn't. And absolutely no one could explain why she hadn't. Indeed, as the now four year old wandered around the palace, ignoring his governess, no one could tell him where his mother was at all.

Finally his father told him she had gone away.

"Oh," Victor said. His father had to go away sometimes, for his duties to the clan. He always came back though. "When will she be back?"

His father hesitated, and then said he didn't know. Victor hung his head; he believed him, but it didn't satisfy or comfort him. It was however true; Lord Yakov didn't know when his wife would return. More accurately, he wasn't sure  _if_ she would return at all, and... he wasn't sure if he ought to _hope_ that she did or not. But Victor was far too young to know all about that.

His mother didn't wake him up the next day either. Or the day after that. Or any day after that. For a while, his father received a lot of letters, from all of their friends from the clans. Victor asked curiously after all of them, struggling to remember who had been who, and asking if little Piglet was back with his family yet so he could visit and play with him again. When his father told him that no, Lord Yuri hadn't returned yet either, Victor finally started to cry; not only was he missing his mother, and he'd been trying really hard not to get upset and worry his father, but Lord Toshiya and Lady Hiroko, who had been so nice and lovely when they visited, was missing their child too. The world was being _mean_. Could Father make it stop being mean?

Lord Yakov had genuinely not known what to do. His wife was better at this sort of thing; he was always too busy leading the clan to properly spend time with Victor, with her, to his regret. So he did what one of the servants used to do with him when he was young; he pushed his chair out from the table, and patted his knee, and waited patiently for Victor to clamber on to his lap and gently hugged his little boy. "I'll see what I can do," he said.

He thought he would regret saying that, as though somehow he could make the world 'stop being mean'. But Lord Yakov underestimated his son; Victor would eventually know that he was being childish, that his father could do nothing about the temperaments of the world, but a promise to make an effort to counter it... that meant everything. He smiled, and accepted his father's handkerchief to wipe his tears away and blow his nose, and did as the governess told him. Some times. (Not really.)

Time passed. Victor turned five. A lot of very old people celebrated for him; as the only son of the Clan leader, with his governess as his sole source of education and therefore society, Victor had very little in the way of friends. Even if Piglet had stayed with his family, Victor worked out that he'd only be nearly two years old, so he'd be a bit bigger, and apparently he would be able to walk around a bit, but he would only speak baby-babble. Lord and Lady Giacometti visited a few months ago, with their son Christophe; Christophe could talk a bit, but Victor barely understood him not even half the time and he didn't have the patience to try. And he hadn't seen Lady Mari since the christening; he had drawn some pictures of them dancing with baby Yuri, had wanted to send them to her, but Father said that maybe that wouldn't be a nice thing, as she probably missed her baby brother. That had been disheartening, but Victor sympathised.

He overheard the Giacomettis talking about his mother, and he hadn't liked their tone. But he thought that Father didn't like their tone either. Good, Victor thought. The subject was soon changed.

Then came the news. Victor never forgot this. It was snowing that day, heavily; he'd been watching from his bedroom window in his nightshirt, thinking about building a snow creature in the gardens. Then Father came in, took both of his hands, and told him that his mother wasn't coming back at all.

They wore black after that.

All the clans came, and a lot of people told him that they were sorry for his loss. He wasn't yet six; he didn't know what to say. He could have been sixty, and he still wouldn't have known what to say however. Victor didn't understand any of it. He hadn't seen his mother in nearly two years; why were they at her funeral now? Father had said something about how Mother had made a friend, a very special friend, and she had gone away with that special friend. But then they got sick, both of them, many people in fact, and... Victor didn't understand.

He had to hide from everyone. Easy enough, the palace was very big, and he knew many good hiding places. Father hadn't come back yet, because he had gone to 'pay his respects' to Mother's special friend who had gotten sick too. Everyone kept talking about Mother, and he didn't like how they spoke, even though he didn't really understand what they were saying. If they thought that they didn't need to be there, then... well, Victor didn't want them to stay, they were more than welcome to go! Lord and Lady Katsuki were there though, and he was glad to see them; when they said they were sorry for his loss, he believed them. He wasn't sure if he believed Lady Katsuki however when she hugged him and told him that his mother had loved him very very much. Lady Hiroko couldn't know that; none of them had seen Mother for so long. Had she...?

Lady Mari found him; the servants cheated and told her where he was. She had gotten smaller, but when he mentioned it she said it was because they were both getting bigger, but he was getting bigger faster. She looked odd in black, so they promised not to wear black the next time they saw each other. They picked colours; Victor was going to wear green, she was going to wear red. Deal.

He was going to ask about Piglet, but remembered that maybe Lady Mari didn't want to talk about her baby brother, if she didn't want to get pictures of him.

Victor found himself telling her about what her mother had said about his. Mari narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course she loved you.  _Of course_... just because she went away, doesn't mean..." She glared at the floor, and refused to finish what she was going to say. Victor didn't ask her to. It was... it was alright. He felt like she understood. So he believed her.

When Father returned, with sober apologies for his late arrival, Victor burst out and ran to him, jumping into his father's arms. Lord Yakov, alarmed at first, was surprised that his little boy didn't seem upset, but he returned the hug nonetheless, frowning again as Victor didn't let him go, and then silently understanding.

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Vitya."

Victor just had his father. And, even though he didn't see them often, Hiroko and Toshiya and Mari. And Piglet, somewhere. The rest he didn't care about. But in that case, all Victor was going to do was love the ones he did care about, and not be angry with them. It wasn't their fault that the world was mean. Father had said he would do what he could, and whilst that wasn't much, at least he wasn't saying bad things about his mother, or even her special friend.

When Victor turned six and the winter was over, his father asked if he would like to go to school with other children his age. Victor thought about it, and said yes; perhaps this was what Father could do to make things alright. Victor had had to shout at his governess a few times, because she had said bad things about his mother, about how she had spoiled him. Victor understood that if he went to school he wouldn't need the governess around, so yes, definitely. Then his father asked him if he would like to learn something that he had learnt as a child, that his father had learnt before him, his grandfather too. Victor loved the sound of that, of learning something his father knew, even sounded passionate about.

So Victor learnt to ice skate with Madam Baranovskaya after school, and few months later his father picked him up with a bouquet of roses for his skating instructor. Victor was never sure what to make of that, but Father looked... lighter.

The red roses turned white before Victor turned eight, and again the clans all came. As promised, Lady Mari wore a red kimono, and laughed when Victor pouted and said he didn't have a choice about what he wore to his father's wedding, and so couldn't wear green after all. At least he didn't have to cut his hair. Next time, she told him, but extracted a favour out of him for his failure to uphold their bargain, a favour he was more than happy to comply with. He was almost as tall as her by then, and Christophe was now a doe-eyed bundle of blond hair who followed him around everywhere (Victor didn't mind by then. Chris was nervous; his parents were sending him away to school, not to somewhere close like Victor. That didn't sound nice...).

When Victor's baby brother was born, he did get to wear green, to match the colour of the baby's eyes once they changed from their initial shocking blue. He'd been surprised that his father wanted to call the baby Yuri, given his friend Toshiya's long-lost son, but the name was from the Baranovskaya's side, pronounced the Northern way. Victor didn't often think of Piglet - in his mind, not only was Lord Katsuki Yuri lost but he was eternally the baby that he had once played with as a toddler - except when he thought of Lady Mari, who was starting to look less boyish at thirteen years old. She forgot her side of the deal then, when they all assembled for the christening, and wore a blue kimono. Victor joked that it was to match his eye colour, but the way that she rolled her eyes told him that maybe he was wrong. He was right for thinking the colour was deliberate however; she told him.

It made him ask her if it was okay to call the baby Yuri. She shrugged. "Lots of people called their babies 'Yuuri' after my brother when he was born. Just like when you were born I'm sure a lot of people called their sons 'Viktor'. It's just a name."

Even so... it never sat right with Victor. "We should call him something else, even if it's just the two of us."

She laughed. "Alright. How about... 'Yurio'?"

The baby started crying. Too late.

* * *

III

* * *

How Yuri survived infancy in the care of the Three Fairies is really quite beyond this narrator.

Somewhere in between not knowing what babies eat and having to consult the spirits, using magic to change diapers - Leo genuinely vomited once, and refused to do it again - and sharp corners on furniture and forgetting the baby in the bath - the first time Yuri crawled it was to get out of the tub - clearly his guardian angel was working overtime.

Though she would take offence to 'angel'.

It should be said that all three of the fairies were not as young as their forms suggested. The eldest actually looked the youngest, for once Guang Hong had fought against the great Qin dragons, back in the days when mortals dared to conquer multiple kingdoms to form empires, rather than the clans of today and their alliances. There were few places on earth that the Ji fairy had not seen, yet he still declared his homeland to be the best, and was vastly looking forward to this all being over so he could return to the great city of Peking. Despite having a substantial Curriculum Vitae of achievements... child care was not listed.

Likewise Leo, who had once been a muse and inspired artists around the world to create their masterpieces, was squeamish, but admittedly more laidback than Guang Hong about the whole thing. He had a more come-what-may attitude. Which was of no help at all when the baby was crying and he didn't know why.

Phichit on the other hand... was totally clueless, but made up for it with considerable enthusiasm. From the moment he conceived of his gift to Yuri, he had loved the tiny child like he was his own sibling, and doted on him to the point of annoying his comrades. Because even though he didn't know what he was doing, Phichit's efforts came naturally. It was he who figured out when Yuri needed to burp, when he was hungry (although what he should feed him took longer to figure out. Hence Leo's vomiting, and why Yuri was overly chubby for a toddler), when he was crying because he was tired, even exactly how to stop Yuri from crying when he fell over. Whilst Guang Hong panicked that they'd broken the baby, Phichit would laugh and encourage Yuri to get up all by himself and keep going, and cuddled him after so that little Yuri giggled back proudly.

Guang Hong learnt not to complain (Leo took it all in his stride), because at least Phichit did the night shifts. Because he wanted to. Because he was crazy like that. Not that it really mattered, as fairies don't strictly sleep.

But it meant that before Yuri could even talk, not that he babbled much anyway, too shy, it was patently clear that he had favourites out of his 'uncles'. And whilst this irritated Guang Hong no end most days... there were some nights when he was glad that Yuri already knew who to turn to. It was Phichit's spell, after all...

Still, that was not to say that the fairies did not have their points of pride. It was Guang Hong who taught Yuri how to read, Guang Hong who Yuri preferred getting his bedtime stories from, of grand adventures fighting foes and saving and being saved by friends. It was Leo who helped Yuri to write and draw, and he spoilt the child rotten with coloured chalk, let him draw whatever he wanted wherever he wanted (within reason. Not the dinner table, or the cauldron, or the couches. Yuri's favourite spot was actually outside on the door step; the first few steps into the house were always marked with pastels from where the little boy had coloured the stones, and even though tread and rain would wash Yuri's artwork away, he would huff and then start something new, or had the pleasure of colouring it back in again.)

As for Phichit...

"Do you think he suspects?" Guang Hong asked in a whisper one night, soon after Yuri turned four, having tucked the child up to bed.

Leo stared blankly. "Suspect what?"

Guang Hong wrung his hands, exasperated. "That we're... y'know!"

Phichit tried not to grin. "That we're... what?"

Guang Hong nearly lost it, had to temper his voice carefully. "That we're...  _fairies_!"

"SHHH!" Leo immediately hushed, making Guang Hong glare. Normally these roles were reversed.

"Why do you ask?" Phichit probed, frowning too. "Has he said anything?"

"Well... no, but..."

"Then stop worrying," Phichit teased, as though it could be that simple. "We've hidden our wands and our wings away, all we need to do now is just make sure he doesn't see us do magic. So stop levitating all the laundry piles."

"That was one time! I dropped them when he came in!"

"I wouldn't worry until much later anyway," Leo said, for a moment sounding wise. "When he's a bit bigger he'll wonder why it is that you still look twelve, but until -"

" _You take that back_."

Phichit chuckled as Leo didn't take it back and carried on teasing their comrade, but nudged them downstairs to bicker over tea. Once they were gone, he stuck his head back into Yuri's room. "Yuri?"

"... Phichi'-kun?"

Phichit smiled, as he always did. Yuri had yet to master the 't' on the end of his name, and he sounded like he was sneezing whenever he said his guardian's name. "I'm here." He approached the little boy's bed and Yuri stopped pretending that he was asleep.

"Do... do I have to pretend that I don't know?"

Phichit grinned. _Of course_ Yuri had suspected; whilst he had no idea what the average family looked like, he had easily realised that it wasn't quite normal that Leo could tone down the fire under the porridge to stop it from burning with a click of his fingers, that most people didn't organise their laundry piles by making bedsheets and the like float in midair. But Yuri himself had a peculiar response to it; he'd said nothing, and then went and tried to figure it out for himself. One of his favourite places was the bookshop that Phichit would take him to in town, and Phichit had caught him looking not for story books but for reference books, uncertain of what exactly he was looking for. Eventually calling defeat, he then came to his Uncle Phichit, and asked him. "Are you all... magic?"

So Phichi'-kun told his charge the truth. Not all the truth, by quite a long way, but some of it. Yes, Guang Hong and Leo and Phichit were magic, were fairies in fact. "So even though Yuri will get bigger and bigger, we'll all stay the same, because we don't age."

"Oh," was Yuri's response. He was only four years old, and this was home for him. What other home was there? It sounded quite nice anyway. "So... you won't change?"

Phichit shook his head, and then had another terrible idea. "Hey, Yuri, let's not tell Guang Hong and Leo that you know. Let's surprise them one day, it'll be funny!"

"Ano..." Yuri hadn't been sure about that, but... "A-Alright then..."

Upon being asked if he had to continue the ruse months later however, Phichit frowned. "Do you not want to pretend? It really will be funny, their faces will look a treat when they realise."

Yuri shrugged. "I... I don't know."

"We don't have to, if you don't want to."

Yuri looked up at his guardian, and shrank into himself. He was ruining Uncle Phichi'-kun's fun. That wasn't fair. And... maybe it really would be funny... "It... it's alright. I won't tell."

Phichit was kind of right in the end, but we'd be skipping too far ahead. Phichit smiled in thanks at the little boy, and tucked the blanket around him in a little more. "Hey... looking forward to tomorrow?" Yuri was silent. Pointedly so. "No?"

"... Do I have to start school?"

Phichit nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. It'll be good; you'll get to meet other children your age."

"But... what if they don't like me?"

Phichit blinked. "Then... more fool them. Why would they not like you?"

Yuri didn't have an answer to that. Neither did Phichit.

"You'll get to read more at school," Phichit reminded, and the boy perked up. "You'll find out lots of interesting things at school. That's really why you're meant to go to school after all, to learn."

Yuri slowly started to smile at the thought. Phichit smiled in return. Leo's spell, that had gifted Yuri with considerable intelligence, was working exceptionally well. Yuri was curious about absolutely everything, even though he was too shy to ask. The moment he realised that books often held the answers he was after, he'd read more and more, trying to understand everything, even when it was far too complicated for his age.

Still, Phichit could tell he was still nervous. Whenever they went into town, at the edge of the bamboo forests that their little house was hidden in, Yuri would hide shyly behind Phichit's legs whenever people stopped to say hello, as Phichit seemed to know absolutely everyone. He did wonder what his little charge would be like, spending most of his days in the company of other children. "Tell you what... after your first day tomorrow, I'll take you out for a treat."

Yuri's eyes brightened. "A treat? What kind?"

Phichit tickled him. "It's a surprise!"

And so Yuri spent his first day at school thinking of what kind of treat Phichit meant - pastries from the bakery? Chocolates from the confectioner? A puppy? Oh, please a puppy! - and proving to Minako-sensei that she was going to have to up her game to make sure that he didn't get bored, as most of the other children starting school couldn't read or write yet. It was only a small school, with a couple of handful of children in each age group, but by the end of the day Yuri had made a friend, or rather had been made a friend of, by a little girl called Yuuko. Yuuko, to her credit, given that she wasn't in the same group and had only spotted him in the playground during the break, had immediately thought the little boy was so cute he had to be her friend, and that was that. She already had another friend called Takeshi, and dragged him along with her, but Takeshi had made fun of him so Yuri didn't really like Takeshi much. But Yuuko had been very cross with Takeshi after that, so Takeshi came back and said he was sorry, and they got on a bit better after that. And at the end of the day when Phichit picked him up - Guang Hong and Leo didn't like going into town, had not been overly thrilled about sending Yuri to school, but they had their instructions - Yuri told him all about the things he had done that day.

"- And then Yuuko taught me this game called 'It', where you have to run a lot so you don't get caught, and oh! Minako-sensei taught me _why_ it's 'taught' and not 'teach', and 'caught' and not 'catch', because it was all at lunchtime and in class and not now and -"

Phichit had never heard Yuri talk so much. More amusing was that Yuri appeared to have completely forgotten about -

He took him through the bamboo forest to a small lake nearby the house, and winked at Yuri. "Don't tell Guang Hong and Leo I did this. You've never seen me do magic, have you?"

"... Ē to..." Phichit was taken-aback. "You... you hover sometimes when I sit in your lap and you read to me..."

Oops.

"Oh... well, erm... ahem. You've never seen me do something like this though..."

And Phichit touched a finger to the surface of the lake, concentrated, and from his finger spread ice across the water, freezing over the entire surface of the water within a minute, making Yuri's eyes widen and mouth drop open with awe. Spell complete, Phichit took a pair of special boots out of a bag for Yuri, boots with steel blades on the bottom, and presented them to Yuri. "For being such a good big boy! I'm so proud your first day at school went well!"

And Yuri flung his little arms around Phichit's neck. "It's like... like...!"

Phichit didn't think to ask what it was like just yet, as he helped Yuri put the skates on, and clicked his fingers to change his own shoes as well, and then took both of Yuri's hands and taught him how to ice skate that day. "Do you remember reading about the Feltsman clan, Yuri?"

"Yes!" The little boy said excitedly, nearly slipping on the ice, trying to balance, holding on to Phichit carefully. "Is this... is this ice-skating, like they do?!"

Phichit grinned and nodded. "Yes! It's a tradition - do you know what a tradition is? It's something that they always do, something special - and all of the Feltsman family know how to ice skate. Do you remember their names from the book you read the other day?"

Yuuri frowned, and then nodded. "Lord... Yakov?"

Phichit nodded in return. "That's right. Well, Lord Yakov learnt how to ice skate from his father, and his father learnt from his father, and his father learnt from his father! Lots of other clans know how to ice skate too; they have competitions to see who's the fastest."

And he told him all about the clans, trying not to think too much that eventually, if all went well, Yuri really would need to know about the Altins, the Leroys, the Lees. And without even realising he had, Yuri let go of Phichit's hands, and managed to skate all on his own, and got back up gamely whenever he fell.

And as the months and years went by, Phichit scratched his head. He hadn't thought his spell was that good, for the pond never thawed again, even in the summer. Another oops. Oh well, as long as Guang Hong didn't catch on...

And little Yuri went about his simple and occasionally bizarre life living in a cottage in the bamboo groves, going to school and skating on the frozen lake after, and helped his guardians with the housework and read book after book after book, and was left entirely undisturbed for quite some time.

When finally disturbance came, it fell, literally, out of the sky.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts, everyone?
> 
> Please let me know what you think. This is a different style for me, to flit through years of life like this. And obviously, Victor's early years are sorrowful, whilst Yuri's are... I feel I should point out that I am not a parent. Nor do I have any experience really of looking after children. But yes, the three fairies are deliberately BAD. So for anyone reading, I am NOT advocating parents using their children for pranks.
> 
> But I do have an official 'niece', my best friend's daughter, and I love her very much as though she were an official one, even though I am very thankful that I am not anywhere near the top of her godparents list, because I wouldn't have a clue what to do either to make sure that she grew up to be a fully healthy human being.
> 
> I'd probably just make her watch Yuri!!! On Ice all the time. Sorted.


	3. IV-V

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

IV

* * *

"It is a bit troubling..." Phichit ran his hand through his hair, and then stuck his tongue out teasingly at Guang Hong and Leo. "I must have cast the spell a little too well!"

"SHHH!" Guang Hong panicked and looked about them. Phichit rolled his eyes; Yuri was out on the ice, practicing compulsory figures, too far away to hear. Not that it mattered, of course, but the others weren't know that.

"How long has the ice stayed frozen?" Leo asked curiously, and bent down to touch the edge. Summer sweat dripped off his brow; the ice was steaming, but dry, stubbornly refusing to melt.

"Err... about four years..."

"WHAT?!"

In the centre of the still-frozen pond, an eight year old Yuri paused and looked back to his guardians, squinting without his spectacles. They all quickly smiled and waved; he waved back and continued practicing. Even Leo looked worried. "What do you mean, the ice hasn't melted in _four_  years?!"

"Well..." Phichit shrugged. "I don't know. Like I said, I must have -"

"Never mind  _how_ ," Guang Hong interrupted, fretting. "What if... what if someone comes across it?! Not even the Feltsmans have year-long ice at their disposal!" Phichit blinked at him. Oops. He hadn't thought of that. Guang Hong groaned as he realised how hapless his friend was. "Well... we'll just have to melt it ourselves."

Leo looked up then, his eyes wide. "Wait, what? But... what about...?"

The three of them looked across the ice to their charge.

To do the Three Fairies credit, they were a lot better at their duty of parenting Lord Katsuki Yuri - or Tosuu Yuri, as they had decided to moniker him, to avoid questions - now that they'd had some practice. And much needed advice, and instruction, and _feedback_. But thus; Yuri was healthy, even happy, and relatively unspoilt.

A typical day for the boy included rising early, albeit with considerable reluctance, and he helped Uncle Leo make breakfast and tea and the four of them would eat together. Then he would run and wash quickly, get dressed, and Phichit would take him to school. There he would dive into his books, pausing only when Minako-sensei insisted he join the other children for a recess, and he would contentedly listen to Yuuko natter away with Nishigori, shyly pitching in on occasion, and making Yuuko cheer every time she got a smile or a laugh out of the quiet boy. After school Phichit would pick him up again, run errands in town with him, and if he were good (and he always was, given the stakes, but also... disobedience was not really part of Yuri's make-up), Phichit would take him to the ice pond to skate. Then, after dinner had been made, eaten and cleaned up after and Yuri had helped Guang Hong and Leo with their other chores and he had done his homework, Yuri would go back out to the ice, until one of his uncles called him back in to bathe and then go to bed. At weekends, once his uncles had run out of things they wanted him to help them with, off he would go again, returning to the cottage only for lunch and snacks.

Yuri had absolutely no complaints about any aspect of this. Truly. There were only a handful of things that he held very dear. Firstly his glasses, for necessity's sake, and Yuri had gotten very, very cross with Nishigori one day when the older boy stole them from his head, until Yuuko shouted at Nishigori to give them back and never steal them again (the boy did exactly as he was told. He knew better than to mess with Yuuko). And secondly, his skates, not only because of what they allowed him to do, but because of who always gave them to him.

His first pair were hanging on the wall in Phichit's room; a fond memory. But all since, as Yuri kept growing out of them, were from his Uncle Toshiryu, Aunt Hirokei, and Cousin Mariko. Well, sort of.

You didn't think that the Fairies would be so cruel as to _never_ let Yuri's parents see him, did you?

It had been carefully - _very carefully_ \- arranged. Between their duties, the danger of being discovered and the risk inherent, the head Katsuki family did not make the journey often to the bamboo forest. In the first five years of Yuri's life, they did not risk it at all. But after Lady Feltsman left with her lover, and died of the plague soon after, the loss played on their minds. What if something happened to them too? What if something happened to Yuri? Even if nothing happened... were they to never see their boy until he was twenty-one, already a grown man with his childhood long over? They couldn't bear the idea...

So, every few months, they carefully arranged affairs so that they could sneak to the bamboo forest, await one of the fairies to come and escort them into the half-here grove, and they got to see their little boy.

There were compromises. They all agreed, adults deciding for the child, that Yuri was better off not knowing. Even at twelve years old, Mari didn't disagree either, as difficult as it was to pretend. So a story was drawn up; Yuri's parents had died shortly after he was born, and Hirokei was his mother's sister, to explain the resemblance. Toshiryu owned and operated an onsen, and so they dressed appropriately, borrowing clothes from their servants. But the onsen was on hard times, and thus their poverty explained why they did not adopt Yuri themselves - they could not afford to - and the Fairies owed a debt to his father.

Later, after their guests had gone and Phichit tucked Yuri to bed, he made up a story of how Yuri's father was a samurai, who had fallen in love with a peasant girl in a village that was besieged by bandits. The samurai fell defending the village whilst Yuri's mother was almost in labour, and in her grief she died soon after giving birth.

Phichit had thought that this story would be romantic... he didn't really know what he'd thought. At five years old however... Yuri had looked horrified. His parents' love had been for nothing, he thought. Phichit never repeated the story again.

At the same time, Lady Hiroko burst into tears in their carriage, and clung to her husband, both sobbing and smiling simultaneously. It was heart-wrenching, lying to her little boy, pretending that he meant less than he did, displaying a fraction of the affection she did feel for him, and yet... _he was alive_. He was _well_. And he was so beautiful, with his thick black hair and big brown eyes that had widened so shyly at the sight of her behind his spectacles, and he was chubby and tiny and she had wanted to hug and kiss him so, so much. Lord Toshiya, usually a jolly man who could never be brought down, cried too, overwhelmed with pride. Their little boy, their darling little boy...

Across from them, Mari smiled affectionately at her parents, and turned away to look out the window of the carriage, hiding her own tears. She had spent all of her time that day with Yuri, playing as Cousin Mariko, getting to know her little brother. He'd been incredibly shy, barely able to say much to her for several hours, but she'd persisted; her hands were covered in chalk from drawing with him all morning, complimenting his stick-figures and messy lines, and laughing at how he was getting chalk on his tiny feet even, making him blush. Then, warmed up to her, Yuri asked the fairy of Siam if he could show her his skating, and so the three of them left their parents with the other two fairies to talk in private, and Yuri showed her, with considerable enthusiasm, the frozen pond, almost letting slip how it had come into being (she could guess, the fairy escorting them looked a little too proud of himself, and not even Lord Victor could boast having ice in early autumn). Yuri blushed as he admitted that he had only been skating for a few weeks, doubted aloud whether Cousin Mariko would want to see, and then when she encouraged him, saying that she definitely wanted to see, he eagerly pulled his bladed boots on, stepped out on to the ice, and off he went.

By then Yuri didn't need Phichit to hold him up, and whilst he slipped and fell a couple of times he just got back up again, blushing angrily at himself for messing up in front of Cousin Mariko, and he kept going, just skating round and round. He hadn't learnt any tricks yet, and so Mari told him about a friend of hers, how he had been skating already for a few years, that he could do spinning jumps, landing on one foot on the ice. Yuri's mouth dropped open slowly in awe at the very idea, and Mari couldn't help herself; she'd laughed and poked her little brother's baby cheeks, making them burn red, and teased him with promises to find out for him how he could do jumps too.

"Really?!"

_Really, little brother._

When they prepared to leave, Yuri looked a little sad, unused to saying goodbye. Before he could even think about it, he gave his aunt and his uncle a hug, and before he even offered his cousin seized him for a hug too, and he wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, and told them all he hoped he would see them soon, blushing shyly at his own forwardness. He was a little confused then; they all left quickly after, looking upset. He had to ask his guardians if he had said or done something wrong, was confused all the more when Phichit sniffed, and told him he'd done everything right that day, and that he was very, very proud of him, and that his aunt, uncle and cousin had enjoyed meeting him.

Yuri was glad. He had enjoyed meeting them too.

The three of them couldn't always make the journey; sometimes business kept Lord Toshiya in Hasetsu. Recently Lady Mari started making the journey alone, earning herself the day off from her studies, fifteen and old enough and long independent enough to keep her own company. The Katsuki Ninjas were always close to hand, until she got to the bamboo forest; then she was in far safer hands. The bamboo itself repelled evil.

Lady Hiroko greatly wanted to take gifts with her whenever they went to visit her son, but the story they had conjured contradicted their ability to. But they managed to stretch it for one exception.

"Here, these are for you," Cousin Mariko said, handing Yuri a box the next time they visited, months later. "You remember last time I told you about my friend who can do jumps? These were his skates, when he was your age. I asked if you could have them."

Yuri would never know that their previous owner, upon hearing of Lady Mari's intentions for them, had excitedly agreed to gift  _every_ pair of skates he'd ever owned, and spent days cleaning the boots, polishing the leather, and sharpening the blades himself until he was happy for them to be bequeathed. Every pair was well worn, the leather soft with age, concealing their original expense. Lord Victor was not yet in the habit of requesting gold blades.

"Oh, and I asked how he does his jumps. He said you need to learn how to skate backwards first, and then on one skate... can you do that?"

Yuri's eyes widened, and he shook his head. He frowned; he was going to figure out how, and practice and practice and practice. He asked Cousin Mariko to ask her friend what to do next when she next saw him, and she ruffled his hair in return, making him panic and apologise for being so rude as to make demands. She just laughed, and said it was her pleasure, and the next time she came it was with bemusement; her friend advised, as though he was teasing Yuri from afar, to learn ballet first.

So he did. His teacher Minako-sensei was once a ballerina in her youth, had danced for the court of Lord Katsuki Toshiyuri, the previous clan leader.

So between the never-melting ice, his glasses, his second-hand skates, and his ballet shoes, Yuri had all the physical items he possibly wanted. The rest was all... just love. From his ever humorous and fussing guardians, to Yuuko's attention, even Nishigori's teasing, Minako-sensei's approval and faithful encouragement, and Uncle Toshiryu and Aunt Hirokei and Cousin Mariko's affection, Yuri's life was as good as it possibly could be.

If only he could just stop having nightmares. Then he could sleep better. But he never remembered them when he woke.

His guardians however remembered them just fine. Which is why it really was a bad idea to melt the ice.

"We can't..." Phichit warned, scared even. Guang Hong's eyes lowered; even he agreed. Leo kept his eyes on Yuri, making sure the boy didn't hear them, making sure that he never knew that for a single second they had suggested taking that which he enjoyed the most from him.

"Alright," Guang Hong said. "But we need to be careful. Let's cast another spell - not now! Wait for Yuri to go, we'll come back later when he's asleep - to make sure that no one ever comes here."

Phichit scoffed. "Guang Hong, someone would have to be pretty lost to find this place. Yuri can't even have sleepovers, Yuuko and Takeshi find it too befuddling."

"All the more reason to, then."

None of them disagreed with that. But that night, when they snuck out of the cottage to cast a dispelling charm over the lake, Phichit found himself struggling with the spell. Someone really would have to be lost, to find the eternal ice buried in the enchanted bamboo grove.

That, and... he had a feeling they were being watched... but when he looked around, suspicious, the feeling went away, and he couldn't spot anything or anyone.

The Red Raven was more powerful than a trio of fae. But not so powerful to outwit the bamboo.

* * *

V

* * *

Be careful with this lesson: whilst Lord Yuri lived contentedly behind an illusion, Lord Victor struggled to do his best with a life awakening to reality.

When Victor turned ten, having spent the summer playing with his new half-brother - Yurio did not like being swayed about or sung to, and Victor had nearly dropped him several times trying to cuddle a screaming bundle of kicking legs and punching fists - his father reluctantly came to him and informed him that he was going to go to a new school, and that this new school was not going to be in Piter, the capital of the Feltsman territory.

"Then..." Victor carefully hid the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Where am I going to go to school?"

Lord Yakov knew his first-born better than that. And it saddened him, but... "One day, Victor, you'll take over the rein of the land from me. You need to be prepared for that."

And so Victor was to be sent to Turicum, the capital of the Giacometti territory, to a boarding school, the most elite in all the land. Victor was too young to know this, but the move was political as well, to strengthen ties with the Giacomettis, long allies of the Feltsman clan, by showing such faith as to send his first-born to school there. The Giacomettis were honoured. That meant absolutely nothing to Victor.

"But... why do I have to go?" Victor asked desperately. "Mari is studying, she hasn't left her home -"

"Lady Mari isn't Lord Katsuki's heir," his father pointed out. "She is completing her education... just in case. And..." Lord Yakov looked skyward. He was very glad that he didn't have daughters, sons were difficult enough. "And because she _insisted_ , and Toshiya caved."

That sounded like Mari. She was fourteen by then, and headstrong. Victor liked her immensely, always enjoyed writing to her and reading her letters in return. He longed to ask after her brother in his letters...

Years ago at his father's wedding Lady Mari had confided to him that she had seen her brother, that he was in the care of the three fairies in a location she couldn't name even if she had wanted to. She asked if she could have Victor's skates when they no longer fitted him, so that she could give them to little Yuri. He'd been overjoyed to hear that Piglet was doing well, that he was learning to skate - though how he could when there was no ice was beyond him - but they could never write about him, in case anyone else ever read their letters. How was he going to see her and catch up properly, if he wasn't there? As it was they barely saw each other at all, normally only when there were people getting married, being born, getting significantly older or dying.

"Papa..." Victor abandoned any pretence of controlling his emotions. "I don't want to go... I want to stay here... with you..."

As Victor cried into his hands, Lord Yakov made a better effort of hiding his affectedness, but still needed to catch his breath. "I know, Vitya. If it were possible, I would have you stay here with me too, but..." And he knelt down, ignoring his knees that were too old to be bending anymore, so that he were level with his boy. "I need you to do this for me, Vitya. I promise, it will only be for a few years -"

" _Years_?!" Victor threw his head up out of his hands, aghast.

Lord Yakov sighed, took his son's hands in his own, and continued. "But it won't be all the time. We will visit, often, and every school holiday you can come back home." He frowned, not liking the 'can'. It felt indifferent. " _I would like you to come back home_ , whenever you can, if you want to too. But it'll be good for you, for your future. So work hard, study, and make us all proud."

It was the best that he could do. All Lord Yakov could hope for was that Victor never realised that... perhaps the timing worked. He was newly married to Lilia, and they had their Yura (even Lord Yakov found it peculiar to call his own son Yuri, unfailingly thought of his friend Toshiya), and... perhaps they needed this time, this space. He knew that Victor was trying his best to fit into their new family, with his step-mother and half-brother, but... his efforts often made things more awkward. That was no one's fault, least of all Victor's, and it was a pity; Lilia liked Victor, never minded that he was the spitting image of his mother, particularly with his long hair - the boy refused to cut the silver lengths, and Yakov had neither the heart nor the true inclination to demand it, as Victor always managed to style it very well for official occasions. And Yura... well, the baby had learnt to frown before he smiled, at everyone other than his mother. If even his father struggled to get the baby to giggle then his half-brother didn't stand a chance.

Lord Yakov kept his word; he made up excuses to visit the Lord Giacometti, until eventually his letters just read; 'it's been a while since I saw my son. May I...' And whenever the boarding school broke out for term breaks, he went and picked his son up. And every time his father came, Victor smiled warmly and hugged him gladly, relieved that his father was still doing his best to make up for the world being mean. But Lord Yakov never saw what Victor's smiles were like during term-time, and had to assume that the smiles he got were genuine. They were, but how was he to truly know that?

Victor was lucky in a way; his first night at  _Le_ _Turicum École_  was spent in tears, in a room that was unfamiliar and subsequently felt box-like, in a place where he knew no one -

There was a knock on the door. Sniffing, wiping tears away fast in bleak light of a single candle that he was hoping would last the night, Victor opened the door.

"Bonsoir," an eight-year old Lord Christophe Giacometti introduced quietly, with a sympathetic smile. "My father wrote and said you were coming. I... I remember my first night. May I come in?"

And a friendship was born. Before he could even truly think about what Christophe had just said, Victor was openly sobbing, understanding only that the young blond boy in front of him  _understood_.

 _Le Turicum École_ was the most prestigious in the land. Very, very few were wealthy enough to attend, and Victor found himself in a class with only five other classmates, none of whom he knew prior. One was the son of a Turicum aristocrat, another a ward of Lord Leroy, a son of a Lee ambassador, an illegitimate son of Prince Cao Bin, and a son of a Crispino merchant looking to buy into higher society. Victor struggled to get on with any of them. They were all more or less civil to each other, as part of their education was on decorum and propriety, but... they all carried various chips on their shoulders, and Victor had the highest pedigree. So he stuck his head down and got on with his studies like he always had - time skating or dancing had always been earned from his studies, his father always telling him to finish his assignments for his governess and teachers before he could be let free for the day - and looked forward to classes being over so he could do his homework with Christophe, and then they would go and use the ballet studio in peace, chat after stretching.

The two boys learnt to look forward to Fridays, after they wrangled an agreement with Principal Karpisek and both their fathers caving. For on Fridays, they would finish classes, a carriage would pick them up with an escort, take them into the mountains to a lodge managed by the ever welcoming Instructor Cialdini (or 'Ciao Ciao', as they called him with affection), and on Saturday morning they would look for frozen pools to skate on all day. When it got dark, they would return to the lodge, do their homework as promised, a condition of this arrangement, and on the Sunday they would skate some more until the carriage took them back to school in the evening, ready for classes on Monday morning.

In a school of such privilege, they were not the only ones who had agreements such as this. And when Lord Yakov came to see his son, they often convinced him to come with them to the mountains.

And so, for a time, Lord Christophe was one of only a handful of people who ever saw Lord Victor smile with genuine joy. He was definitely the only one who heard Victor laugh whenever he got a difficult jump right, knew Victor's every scalding opinion of the teachers of _Le_   _École_ , knew that they shared the same worry about failing to make their parents proud of them, though both were clueless as to what this future that they were meant to be preparing for actually was. They were only children after all. Thus far all they had had to do was stand around looking presentable and not be a nuisance.

There were things that Christophe didn't know. Victor never told him the secrets that Lady Mari entrusted with him; she had sworn him to never speak of Yuri to anyone, and he was keeping his word. When Victor was twelve, Christophe ten and the two boys spent the winter holidays together with Victor's family, the Katsuki's came to visit too. There, Christophe got a shock when he saw Victor react with surprise at how Lady Mari had transformed into womanhood in his absence, now sixteen, and Mari familiarly reached out to ruffle Victor's hair. Then the two vanished, so that Mari could tell him about how Yuri had reacted that way too, how her nine year old brother had yelped when he went to hug his 'cousin' only to find that he was now at chest level, and her chest was 'squishy'. When Victor went back to his best friend, it was to find Christophe sulking, though even the younger boy couldn't figure out why he was so put out.

When Christophe was thirteen, he figured out why. At fifteen, Victor was the most beautiful boy in school by a thousand miles, with his icy-blue eyes and near-waist length silver hair, utterly unique even in a school where every student was from all over the land. Admittedly girls were in short supply to compare (as what wise man would spend such expense on their daughter). There were a couple of young women that they saw often at the lodge who flirted with them, and they were pretty, but Christophe's gut remained unresponsive. When the girls cast their eyes on his friend however...

It was not in Christophe's nature to deny, hide or conceal. He knew that Victor was a different person in front of his class, in front of his teachers, even with his family, and that the only consistency was between how he was with Christophe and how he was with Lady Katsuki Mari. Christophe had made his peace with that, as it told him that Victor truly considered him a friend, given that he had been friends with Lady Mari far longer. He also knew that before Victor came to  _Le Turicum École_ , his peers would probably describe Christophe as awkward at best; it was only because of Victor, who had trusted him from the beginning, that Christophe began to shine as himself, learnt to be confident about expressing his passions, confident enough to be exactly who he wanted to be. And Victor was -

"Very pretty."

Victor looked up - he'd just finished braiding his hair to keep it out of his face whilst he read up on the Is/Ought Divide - and smiled. "Et toi, mon cher," he replied with a friendly wink, and resumed taking notes.

Christophe's smile took a hit. He knew that only one of them had really meant what they just said.

Christophe went to Piter with Victor for the winter holidays and for Victor's sixteen birthday. It was a truly grand occasion; everyone who was anyone was there. Lady Mari was there, and again they disappeared off to catch up, ignoring all the other guests without a care, rankling Christophe's nerves, and not for propriety's sake. Now nearly twenty, Lady Mari was not a particular beauty, but she was striking; there was something in the way that she stood, the way she carried herself that commanded respect. Christophe found himself unable to begrudge her, even as his imagination ran away with him, given that Victor was of age now. Were they more than friends...? In an unguarded moment Christophe asked, and Victor promptly choked on his drink, and denied it with such fervour that Christophe believed him.

"Oh God, no! NO! UGH! She's like... she's like an older sister to me! _No_! Whatever made you think that?!" When put like that, Christophe laughed too.

Whilst they were there, Victor got the best birthday present he had yet to receive; his father asked him if, after his exams were over that year, he would like to come home for good. "Yes!" Victor replied in an instant. He'd been hoping to be asked this for nearly six years... yes. _Yes, yes, yes_. Then... he remembered his best friend. "Oh..."

"What's wrong?"

Victor looked at his father nervously. He faltered for a moment when he remembered yet again that he no longer had to look  _up_ , as he was the same height as his father. He wasn't even finished growing, so he'd been told. He would get taller... he wasn't sure what he was going to do when he was taller than his father, still feeling like a child, far from grown up yet. "Can... could Chris come and... and study here? If he wants to, I mean."

Lord Yakov smiled to himself, hearing what Victor wasn't saying.  _He's my best friend, I don't want to leave him behind_. "How fortuitous." Victor frowned, not following. "The understanding was always that after the Giacomettis graciously hosted you in Turicum, we would extend the same in return and invite their son..."

Victor blinked, and then smiled, his mouth widening into a heart shape as he realised what his father was saying. The world was mean, but his father was still doing his best, even when Victor was meant to be old enough to not need it anymore. He flung his arms round his father's neck, beyond words to thank him, and though Lord Yakov froze for a second, he soon hugged his son back. Then Victor ran out of the room to go tell his friend the good news.

Or at least, Victor thought it was good news. For a moment, his best friend looked at him oddly. Victor backed away, uncertain. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased..."

"I am," Christophe said. His voice seesawed awkwardly, breaking towards a deep baritone. A couple of years ago he had been amused when Victor's voice broke and he spent much of the time being surprised by how different his own voice sounded; now it was Victor's turn, but Christophe wasn't finding it funny now.

"Then...?"

"I need to think about it, Victor."

Victor frowned then, not understanding what there was to think about. He highly doubted that Christophe wanted to  _stay_ at  _Le Turicum École_ ; he was just as scathing of it as he was. For all the expense of it, the privilege, luxury even, it offered no _comfort_. Neither of them ever thought of it as a home, and Chris had been there longer, since he was five. "But -"

"I don't have to do anything I don't want to, Victor," Christophe said, suddenly sharp. Victor's mouth dropped open, shocked. They hardly ever spoke like that to each other, not even through the whole of puberty and their hormones rocketing to make them testotorone-filled men and they were bound to pick a fight about something. That's not to say they didn't get into fights, or narrowly avoided them; when Lord Leroy's son Jean-Jacques started at the school, on Day One he made a dig about Victor's hair, how he looked like a girl. Victor had to grab his best friend to make sure Christophe didn't forget that Jean-Jacques barely came up to their waists, but didn't hold back later when Bin insinuated that their weekends away were not spent skating.

"I... I'm sorry..." Christophe tried to walk it back, but Victor continued to stare at him, concerned now. "It's just... I'm not five anymore, Victor. You're asking me to move to another territory, even further away from home. That's not a small thing, it's not like going skating in the mountains. So... I just need to think about it, alright?"

Victor nodded, still not understanding. He... he had thought they were friends, best friends, that Christophe would want them to stick together, that he would relish the opportunity to leave the boarding institute that he had been stuck in for nine years. What was he missing? Then his own thoughts struck home; they _were_ friends, best friends. He owed it to Christophe to work through whatever doubts he had, to stand by his decision. One of the many things he admired and respected about Christophe was that he was loyal, and it inspired that same loyalty in return. "Of course. Whatever you need."

Christophe nodded at that, smiling, glad. Then he grinned. "Come on, birthday-boy," and he slung his arm over Victor's shoulders. Even two years younger, he was almost just as tall, would probably be taller in the end. "I saw cake, let's go throw it at your brother."

And just like that, all the tension was gone, and the two ate so much they had sugar-crashes later, laughing because little Yurio had been denied cake completely, as he had yelled at one of the guests earlier. Temper-temper, little brother.

Christophe would end up regretting his hesitation. For many reasons.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to give you all due warning for the next chapter... things get worse for Victor. There are going to be some added warnings in the tags, and they're going up now ready for the next.
> 
> Then they'll get better, and that will be the worst of it.
> 
> Making Wednesdays my regular updating day for this, but I'm going to post up the next chapter earlier than that, once I'm satisfied with it, either Thursday or Friday.
> 
> Please let me know what you think :-)


	4. VI-VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Victor, for putting you through this.
> 
> WARNING FOR TRIGGERS: NON-CON. I've been careful to make sure it's not explicit, but I couldn't find any natural way of skipping it.
> 
> This is the worst point. Keep going, and it'll get better... you'll see...

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

VI

* * *

He knew nothing about him.

Victor barely knew anything that was going on around him.

Something kept dripping. It was echoing on the slate steps. Victor had never been more grateful for such an annoying distraction. It meant it was impossible to think.

 _Drip_. When in the world had Father installed a Katsuki-styled bathtub? _Drip_. Was it for Lord Toshiya when he came to visit, or had Father taken a fancy the last time he was in Hasetsu? _Drip_. The wood made him think of barrels, but even larger. _Drip_. The water was hot. Steamy. Soothing. _Drip_. Victor felt paranoid... was he... bleeding into the water? No, the water was still clear... _Drip_.

Tears came, and he couldn't hear the dripping anymore.

Victor really wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up, and find that he was in his bed at  _Le Turicum École_ , and that he hadn't finished his exams yet. He wanted to wake up, eat breakfast with Christophe, go to revision classes for examinations still looming, and then lounge on the school's lawn in the sun with his friend, the summer barely beginning. He wanted to wake up to knowing that his best friend was indeed coming to Piter to continue his studies with a private tutor for them to share, although he'd rather that Christophe come with him the moment that school ended, not after the summer was over, so that he could see his parents for a while. If not that, then he wanted to wake up to... to the day that Father had presented his 'welcome home' gift; Makkachin. Victor had been  _beside_ himself with joy at being gifted the poodle pup, even more joyous as the poodle ballooned with unnatural speed, growing inches in just the space of a day, until finally within a month the puppy was as big as a pony. And still growing.

 _Drip_.

His father tried to return the enormous dog, and get a normal one. Victor refused, particularly after Makkachin picked him up and threw him on to his back, and scampered about the palace gardens as Victor clung to his fur for dear life, laughing all the while. _"Now you don't need to get me a horse!"_

There was a downside to Makkachin's completely abnormal growth spurt - _"well, it must be... it must be magic, right?"_ Yurio commented, glaring up at the dog's face, grimacing as Makkachin tried to lick his face. Victor shrugged, not caring in the slightest, scratching behind Makkachin's enormous fluffy ear. He'd seen three fairies gift a baby with beauty, creativity and strength, and a wizard curse the same with demons. A gigantic dog seemed like a narrow escape - and that was that Makkachin had to stay in the stables. Like a horse. Victor had gotten to spoon the puppy in his own bed for only three days until he was just too big. Makkachin's pen was easy to point out from the others; instead of straw, there were lots and lots of blankets and cushions.

The stables... stable boy... Victor's tears renewed. "No..."

The attendant who had kindly run the bath for Victor stuck his head outside. "My lord? Did you call?"

Victor nearly choked as he sniffed quickly, wiped his face free of tears, kept his back turned as much as possible. "No, thank you, I..." He shook his head at himself. "I'm sorry, it's late, do you need me to...?" He might be a lord, but he had manners; he had grown up in the palace, had learnt to not be an imposition to the servants, to make their lives easier by being pleasant and respectful, and getting out of their way when they needed.

"Not at all, my lord. Please, stay as long as you like. There are towels at your disposal on the bench, and a robe and slippers. May I turn in, my lord?"

Victor cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. Thank you. Good night."

The door closed after a moment.

 _Drip_.

The tears couldn't come this time.

 _Drip_.

Was... was the water deep enough to... to drown in? Victor screwed his eyes shut, felt a flare of anger. That was a terrible thing to think. He didn't want to drown, but... he ducked his head under anyway, not to drown, but to feel his long hair swirl around him in the water, to be enveloped completely. Could it soothe all of him? Could it heal? Could it clean away everything...?

Slowly Victor sat back up, breathed.

 _Drip_.

Ah, it was from the gutter above. It was falling on to the step.

Victor wanted to get out - the drip was starting to annoy him now - but... he also didn't want to get out of the water. He was safe, sort of, in the water. The water was making him feel better, again, sort of. Before he had felt... dirty. Bruised.

Invaded.

_It was my fault..._

Nothing answered this thought. He was so numb, this thought evoked no reaction. Five minutes later, the reaction would come.

_I don't know what to do. I can't... I can't sleep, but... my eyes hurt, I'm so tired... I don't want to sleep in case... in case I dream it..._

Victor kept his eyes open. Blinked unseeing at his own legs under the water. They looked foreign to him. Was this his body really? He wasn't even sure; he'd been avoiding mirrors since... since...

 _Keep your eyes open, don't close them, don't see -_ he closed his eyes.

Victor could taste _his_ tongue again. He had tasted of something rank... like the smell of the tobacco that people smoked, but compounded and even more... bitter? Whatever it was, it had made Victor frown. Was this what it was meant to be like?

Victor opened his eyes. Was it...? Was it meant to be like that? Rough and pushing and... he hadn't known what to do, how to keep up... did it get better after a while, did he just need to persevere and learn and...?

He wished he could ask Christophe. Even though Christophe was only fourteen, and wouldn't - _shouldn't_ \- know at all, he just wanted to ask his friend whether it was normal for kisses to be... unenjoyable.

Victor didn't know who else to ask. Who would understand -

Makkachin.

Victor stumbled on a breath. Makkachin... Makkachin had... had  _growled_. _He'd known_. He was a  _dog_ and he'd known. He'd been growling and trying to get out of his pen in the stables. How did... how did he know...?

Dogs smell fear. Makkachin could smell Victor's fear.

The details were getting jumbled already. Victor had thought that he'd liked his eyes... but he didn't remember their colour now. Had he been tall...? Victor had felt  _small_... he'd been big, muscular... before,  _before_ , Victor had caught sight of him from behind and blushed, had felt a tickling in his gut that had never been so powerful before. But now... had his hair been brown...? Or was it lighter than that...? He couldn't remember anymore. He just remembered the push of his tongue, of being nervous because he was being pushed along and he was stumbling, then the scratch of straw and...

He remembered being frightened. That, at least... it wasn't meant to be frightening.

The tears came back. It _ached_ again.

After Makkachin got bigger, so big he had to be kept in the stables with the horses, Victor noticed him. The stable boy. He never knew his name. He kept getting caught  _looking_ , kept... kept catching  _him_ looking... Then...

_"Hey. Come here."_

Victor's entire body clenched, and he lost balance in the tub, nearly submerging again and wincing as he struggled to remain seated. He'd been so _stupid, so naive_... _it was his fault, his fault_... he'd just finished closing Makkachin's pen, and he... he didn't know what else to do other than to go over, to the back of the stables, to -

He'd been excited. He had wanted to go over. It was his fault...

The kiss had come out of nowhere and he was turned and shoved against the wall. It was just hot lips at first, and Victor's gut had melted with sensation - oh god, it had been good at first - but then the stable boy - a  _man_ , he was older, twenty maybe, Victor couldn't tell, never knew anything - shoved his tongue into Victor's mouth, pushing, yanking him close by his jacket, a hand holding him by his tied up hair. Victor had frowned, uncertain, but then he was being pulled into one of the pens, pushed on to the straw.

_"Shit, we'll get caught, there's no time -"_

Victor didn't know what was happening, was struggling to get back up off the straw, and then his trousers were being pulled down, his rear exposed and a hand was pushing him down and he heard the man spit -  _spit_ \- and then fingers were being pushed into him and -

Victor winced, whimpered in the tub, remembering.

 _"Fuck, you're tight, there's no time_ _-"_

No time for what...? Victor gasped when the fingers came out of him - _thank God_ \- and then...  _no..._

Victor's scream caught in his throat, and the rest was swallowed up by the straw.  _It hurt, burned, dragged and pulled and oh god, he was pulling his hair back_ -

It stopped. There was so much noise - a pounding, his own heartbeat in his ears - and... the horses were panicking. There was barking,  _snarling_ , scratching and banging, like someone was trying to break down a door.

_"Fuck, what the... wait... shit, are you alright...?"_

Victor whimpered.  _Please make it all stop_...

 _"_ Shit _, I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't... I'm sorry, look, I'm sorry, I... oh fuck..."_

Victor cried out as the man yanked himself out of him, and he slumped into the straw, shaking uncontrollably, wanting to curl up into himself. The snarling stopped - there had been running footsteps, away, Victor hoped - and then whimpering. Makkachin... Makkachin was whimpering...

Victor slowly picked himself up, his hands and wrists shaking as they tried to hold his weight back up, and he winced, shame flooding him as he pulled his trousers back up. He stumbled on his first step, and almost fell as he made the distance to his gigantic dog. Makkachin seized him with his front paws over the gate, licking him, nuzzling at him in a panic, and Victor let him, didn't stop him at all. He clumsily opened the gate and slipped in, let himself be swallowed up by his dog. "It's alright, Makkachin..."

It wasn't alright.

Makkachin had let out a howl, as if to loudly contradict Victor, which finally brought someone running to the stable, making Victor's heart stop in his chest. "My lord? Is everything alright?"

 _Please go away!_ "Yes, everything's fine!" Victor called out automatically, desperately.  _Please don't see me like this!_

The servant who came seemed to think that Victor was disheveled because of Makkachin fussing. Victor had let him think it, and buried his face into Makkachin's fur.

He didn't remember how he got from the stables to his bedroom. He did remember trying to lie in bed, struggling to find the will to take off his clothes, his hands and arms and legs stuck in shocked rigor, until all of a sudden he felt like his body was on fire, like ants were scratching all over his body, his dirty body, and he'd marched to the bath-house and scrambled out of his clothes and into the water. He had no idea how long he had been in the stables, or his bedroom, or the bath. He'd left the stables because he made the mistake of glancing at the pen that... that... he'd almost run to his bedroom, thinking he'd feel...  _safer_ there. He'd been wrong, and... he was starting to regret ever leaving -

He needed Makkachin. Makkachin _knew_. Makkachin had tried to protect him. He would protect him. Victor needed Makkachin. Right now.

 _Get out of the tub, Victor_.

Victor moved, with all the grace of a newborn foal standing for the first time, and he caught his ankle on the edge of the tub, only just catching his balance. Out of the water, in the open air, Victor convulsed, feeling overly naked, overly exposed.  _Get a towel, wrap it round you, keep going_...

He left his old clothes behind - he couldn't touch them, they were... he never wanted to wear them again - and almost ran to his room, throwing on a shirt, underwear, trousers, socks, boots, and a long coat as he ran back out again.

At the stable doors he hesitated. Then he heard Makkachin woof gently within, and he stepped inside.

It was dark. He kept his eyes on his dog, sighed with relief as he got a lick on his face, and his fingers trembled as he did up the clasps for the riding seat over Makkachin's back. Makkachin bent down to let him, and then gave him a nudge with his nose when he was ready, and before Victor could even say anything to encourage him, Makkachin trotted out of the stables on his fluffy legs, Victor gratefully burying his face into the back of his enormous dog's neck, and willed him to take him away, far away.

"Anywhere but here..." he whispered.

Makkachin gave a sad, gentle woof, and stopped, stared at the palace walls. How to get out... he sniffed the air. Ah. That way.

The wind felt nice through Victor's hair, drying the tendrils that Victor had combed through at a mad rush, without mercy to his scalp as the comb caught on knots. It trailed out like a sail, and Victor kept his face buried in Makkachin's fur, not wanting to be seen or see. But then he shivered, not from misery but... it was so cold up... up...

Victor pulled back his head and shrieked, and buried his face back into Makkachin's neck. What the-!

Makkachin gave a reassuring woof, and gambolled through a stray cloud, scattering moisture. The gigantic dog wasn't just as big as a horse, but... but...

_Makkachin could fly too._

Victor couldn't help it; he started laughing, absurdly. Makkachin barked happily, sensing the change of Victor's mood from despair to... to...

Victor was flying.  _He was flying... this was..._

"Amazing..."

Victor's homeland was spread out beneath him. The odd fire in someone's hearth cast glowing spots in the black, whilst the slate roof tiles gleamed navy in the moon light, and in the distance the sea shimmered with starlight. Incredible... it was incredible...

"Makkachin!" Victor threw his arms round his dog's neck, his smile heart-shaped. "You clever thing! How are you doing this?! This is amazing!  _You're_ amazing! Oh... Makkachin!"

The dog woofed proudly, and soared and dipped playfully, making the teenager on his back whoop excitedly. Seconds ago Victor had thought his day couldn't be more terrible, right from Yurio berating him ridiculously that morning for drinking his tea wrong, to yet another day of not getting a reply letter from Chris about when he was coming, to... none of it mattered, so high up. Victor closed his eyes, spread out his arms, felt the wind lash through his fingers, and...

Makkachin suddenly paused, looked down, sniffed curiously. Victor opened his eyes, and before he could ask, Makkachin dived. Victor clung fast to the curly fur, trying to see past Makkachin's enormous ears, but even when he could see past he couldn't adjust his eyes in the dark, and... oh. The ground was a lot closer than -

Makkachin aimed for a gap in the trees, toward a downward sloping hill, legs scrambling for purchase on the air, and as the ground loomed Victor ducked his head into Makkachin's neck, held on tightly... then they hit the ground and rolled together, moving too fast, down a mossy bank, to -

Makkachin yelped inelegantly as they rolled on to ice and across the surface of a frozen lake, finally sliding to a stop. Victor slowly looked up - he'd gripped on to Makkachin's back with all he had to not going flying (in a way that would be less pleasant than they had just been) - and frowned. Where on earth were they?

The lake stretched into the distance, disappearing into mist, fireflies blinking lazily within. Bamboo trees hugged the edges. Victor looked to the edge, where they had just fallen down the bank in their messy landing, saw that the ice stretched entirely to the edge, licked up the reeds and the grass. All the more curious, Victor slowly stepped down from Makkachin's back, who gave up trying to find purchase and remained slumped, and he held on to Makkachin's fur for balance in his boots.

"You alright?" He asked his dog, and the poodle gave a grumble in response, panted reassuringly. Victor smiled, and then looked around them.

The ice was unnaturally smooth, smoother than Victor had ever seen, and thick, so thick Victor wouldn't be surprised that it was frozen all the way down to the bottom of the lake. But...  _how?_ It was summer, it was warm even at night, and there was no moisture other than the mist. It wasn't possible...

" _SHUT UP!_ "

Victor jumped out of his skin, nearly slipped, scrambling at Makkachin's neck to remain upright. What the - who was...?! Victor strained his eyes, trying to see through the moonlit mist... he could... he could just make out a... a figure...

The figure in the mist was bent, and Victor saw the shadows of fists beat against its head, heard a whisper echo over the ice - " _shut up, shut up, shut up_..." - and then, slowly, the figure straightened up. Small... a boy? The voice had sounded young, pleading, desperate... and angry. Victor looked as best as he could deeper into the mist and saw no one else. Who was the figure trying to silence?

The figure shifted into a familiar posture, and Victor heard a familiar click: skating blades pitching in, followed by a sigh, a second, a third, then -

The skater in the mist raised his arms, swept them around his body, spinning easily, and danced across the ice.

The frown on Victor's face smoothed out, and his mouth fell open. He had never seen skating like it before, and he could  _only just_ see it, saw only shadows and silhouettes dip their head back and turn, arms raised in supplication, saw the precise straightness of a horizontal leg slicing the air in a spin, saw the figure leap and clap above his head and gather speed again. It was beautiful. It was -

The boy jumped, rotating in the air, and Victor winced as he fell on the landing, tumbling over himself, but wasted no time in pushing himself back up again, and Victor marvelled at how little elegance and energy had been lost. He still couldn't look away, still could barely remember to breathe... the boy jumped again, and landed cleanly this time, before kicking into a spin, low to the ice and stretching out upwards in the spin, before finishing with his head raised to the starry heavens above, arms crossed over his chest, panting with exertion.

Within sight.

Ebony hair that shone in the starlight like the wing of a black raven. Big, wide, innocent eyes, the colour lost in the night, but dark. Young, younger than Victor, younger than Christophe, not as young as Yurio... twelve, perhaps? His middle still carried just enough baby fat to notice, his kimono stuck to his body with sweat, but his thighs were already toned, founded to hold him on the ice he had just dominated. Rounded cheeks, pink from... exhilaration, Victor could see his smile itching to reveal itself. The boy was proud of what he'd just done... so he should be.

"Perfect..."

The boy started, and his head flicked toward Victor, panic wiping that smile away in an instant. _No!_ Victor almost reached out. _I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,_ he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his chest. Then it was too late; the boy turned and fled into the mist, his skates carving deep lines into the ice.

"Wait!" Victor ran forward, and immediately slipped and fell, forgetting that he was just in his boots. He struggled to get upright, Makkachin nudging him up with his big nose behind him, whimpered when Victor pulled at his whiskers by accident. "Wait..." But the boy was gone. Victor's arms fell slack at his sides as he stared into the mist, face grim. Where... he had to find him. He had to apologise for disturbing him, for frightening him, for -

"You're early."

Victor blinked, and there she was. He swore...

The red-haired woman suddenly before him waved a hand -

Black.

* * *

VII

* * *

At Yuri's twelfth birthday, he finally couldn't hold it in any longer. "Guang Hong, people will get confused now that we look the same age..."

The Xin fairy was about to retort, exactly like he often did with Leo and Phichit, before he realised... "Yuri?"

The boy blushed, and his hands slapped to his mouth, and he looked to Phichit. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean -!"

But the Sian fairy was already laughing so hard he was clutching his sides, and Leo was laughing already at everyone's reactions, slower on the uptake. Then finally... "Wait... err..."

"I...!" Guang Hong turned bright red, struggling. He'd had nearly twelve years to try and rehearse a response to this exact scenario, and now he had nothing. Then he glared at Phichit, realising that something... wasn't quite... _right_.

"The looks... on your faces...!" Phichit rolled with fresh peals of laughter. He wiped away a tear, took the necessary breath. "He's... Yuri's known since... since... ha _ha_... since he was... since he was  _four_!"

"WHAT?!"

"I'm sorry!" Yuri immediately gasped out. "I... I'm sorry I didn't tell you both, but I... err..." He looked nervously to Phichit, and then glued his mouth shut. He'd said too much already, but he wasn't ratting out his guardian, even then.

Guang Hong seized Phichit's shirt and glared at him, their noses an inch apart. The tiny fairy could be pretty intimidating when he wished to be, though Phichit was still laughing so hard it wasn't really working now. "Precisely  _what_ has he known...?"

"That..." Yuri looked at the floor awkwardly, pressing his index fingers together in front of his chest. "That you guys are... are... f-fairies..."

And, as if to back him up, Phichit teasingly flapped his hands, and levitated into the air, even as Guang Hong continued to scowl at him.

"Oh..." Leo finally said. "Well, that's... that's not so bad." Both Guang Hong and Phichit sent him warning looks; be careful! Yuri might not know everything else! "Wait, does that mean we can do magic around the house now?" Leo sighed with relief. "Because that would be  _awesome_."

"That went alright, didn't it?" Phichit later teased Yuri, still giggling about it. Yuri gave his uncle an exasperated look, making Phichit laugh.

Guang Hong had been in a terrible mood all day. Not with Yuri, or at least he tried not to be. "Because it's all  _Phichit's_  damn fault!" Guang Hong pointed out, and Phichit shrugged, the motion sending him floating into mid-air again, making Guang Hong even more irritated. He was even more irate when Phichit started messing around in the kitchen, saying that it would be so much easier to make a birthday cake for Yuri now. "OUT!" Guang Hong shouted, and a blast of wind blew the offending fairy out of the room, and after a much needed deep breath, Guang Hong turned to his charge and asked if he would care to assist him.

Just watching Guang Hong conjure the cake using magic, making flour and eggs march towards a bowl and whisk themselves, had been a treat enough for Yuri. And it had tasted  _divine_. (Phichit was not allowed to have any. So Yuri was sharing his slice, sitting at the edge of the ice.)

Yuri hung his head. "Are... are you sure they won't be mad at me?"

Phichit smiled. "Not at you, Yuri. Me, definitely, but you, no."

"Oh."

Phichit grinned in amusement. He carefully managed his expressions as he thought; after all, the fact that the three guardians were fairies barely scratched the surface of it all.

"He still doesn't know the rest, okay?" Phichit placated later, hidden with Leo and Guang Hong in a bubble so Yuri definitely wouldn't hear them. Assuming he was still in the house that evening, he'd probably snuck out to the ice to skate again, the boy was obsessed.

"Are you  _sure_?" Guang Hong dug, unimpressed. "You said that Yuri figured out what we are from books! He might have -"

"He's never said anything, alright?" Phichit argued back. "Besides... if he had figured out who he is, then he would have treated Lady Mari differently when she last came, and  _she_ never said anything either."

Guang Hong nodded, agreeing with that last. Lady Mari was nineteen now, an adult. She'd started assisting her parents with their state affairs, was proving adept at handling business. She took her brother's welfare very seriously; as much as she had always loathed the pretence of only being his 'Cousin Mariko', she would have told them if the ruse was at risk. There were still nine years until Georgi's curse was meant to take effect, but the protective powers of the bamboo were still steadfastly keeping all evil at bay, regardless of whether they made the attempt to enter on foot through the human world, or through the netherworlds of beyond.

As well Phichit knew, and had confided with his fellow guardians. The town of Kara, where Yuri's school and favourite bookshop, and the bakery that Phichit liked to get pastries from, was half enclosed within the bamboo grove, and though the protection was not quite as strong, Phichit had seen enough strange creatures finding themselves repelled in the streets, unable to walk down any further, meaning more trouble than they cared to admit. The bamboo always knew, always warded off those who intended harm.

"Does he doubt the story we made up about his parents?" Leo wondered aloud. "Has he never asked how he came to be under our guardianship?"

Phichit shook his head, genuinely frowning. "No... he's never questioned the story I told him, about the samurai and village girl. He asked later how it was that we came to be in his 'father's debt', but... he seemed to accept it when I said that it was because his father slayed a Great Dragon Witch for us. He's never asked about it since."

The three fell to silence, and when Guang Hong broke it, it was softly and with great reluctance. "When we tell him the truth... it's going to be really hard for him."

They all nodded, and resolved to worry about that closer to the time. Yuri would be an adult by then... he might take it well... hopefully...

They had to hope. By then... they did have other concerns. About Yuri.

For as long as they could remember, Yuri had nightmares. Not every night, not even frequently, but... when he had them, every few months, with no discernible pattern...

When Yuri was a baby, nearby toys rattled warningly. When Yuri was around six, his nightmares made the bed beneath him splinter apart, and Phichit had to scramble quickly to fix it with magic before the boy woke up. By the time he was eleven, his entire room would shake, everything that was fragile would break, and it would take all three of them to right everything before the boy woke,  _if_ he woke. The last time he had a nightmare, almost a year ago, the room had started to freeze, and the shadows had deepened, deathly groans emitting from the deep black. Phichit had found himself reciting his gift again -  _I give you strength, to bear it_ \- to make the shadows recede, whilst Leo used flames to warm the room up again carefully. Yuri was sick after that, like the ice had caught in his chest and he had to be thawed out.

His 'Aunt Hirokei' was scheduled to come around then. The fairies tried to cancel, but she came anyway, to look after her 'nephew'. Yuri slept so peacefully whilst she was there, and the effect had continued to hold all this time. They were dreading the severity of the next one.

Unbeknownst to them, Yuri had more nightmares than they realised, though still thankfully infrequently. These he remembered on occasion, if they woke him up; a mess of voices, in dark, shadowed places he was sure he had never been, telling him... telling him...

He hated those nightmares. He didn't know about the ones that would wake his guardians and send them to his side to protect him.

Otherwise, despite his guardians being a trio of magical, bickering beings who never aged a day - Phichit had to conjure grey hairs whenever they went into town to disguise himself, and Yuri came to appreciate why Guang Hong never bothered at all; he could fully shape-shift and still look far too young - Yuri's life was... good.

He was thirteen, still friends with Yuuko and Nishigori at school, was still the class-swot. Minako-sensei still did ballet classes for him after school; Yuuko joined them sometimes, but she couldn't keep up, and Nishigori would wait for her outside. Both his friends were a couple of years older than Yuri, and the head start was beginning to show; Nishigori's voice had just cracked, and he was beginning to grow taller, broader, whilst Yuuko was becoming curvier, and roughly once a month she'd have to skip school, and come back ravenous for pastries from the bakery close by. Yuri, having long ago read about the changes that the human body goes through, still found it strange that it was finally starting to actually happen; they weren't little kids anymore.

Meanwhile, he was now the same height as his Aunt Hirokei, was starting to catch up with his cousin and uncle, even at thirteen. He'd grown out of over half a dozen pairs of skates by then, was amazed that Cousin Mariko's friend had had so many, was still so generous as to just give them up for him. The friend - he couldn't remember his name, wasn't entirely sure she had ever told him his name, and was too embarrassed by the faux pas that he had never asked her again - had given her written advice and sketches on how to do jumps, the drawings rough but clear, even other ideas for favourite glides, how to pull off hydro-blades. The advice was always written with enthusiastic encouragement, and Yuri found it very touching. Whoever this friend was... Mariko was very lucky to have their friendship.

Cousin Mariko was twenty now. She looked grown up, a far cry from the twelve-year old Yuri had once been so shy of initially. Yuri found himself asking, before he could stop himself, if her friend was just that... a friend.

Her face, as he looked horrified at his insolence for asking such a nosy question, was a picture. "UGH! NO!" And she pretended to vomit. Then she laughed. "He's alright, I guess. But no. I think..." And she grinned slyly. "I think he has a special friend already. I might be wrong, but... hmm."

Yuri blinked up at his cousin, relieved that she hadn't seemed to mind being asked. "Then... do you have a special... friend?"

She looked guarded for a moment, and then ever so slightly nodded. "Don't... don't tell Oto-san and Oka-san though, okay? It'll only cause trouble, and it won't... it won't work forever anyway, so... but for now... it's good." And then she changed the subject back to skating, and Yuri smiled, glad his cousin seemed happy at least.

For the time being, his life was uncomplicated, as far as Yuri knew anyway. Except for those nightmares...

_They never wanted you - you're a burden! - a waste of time, a waste of space! - no wonder they never adopted you - they're absolute saints, putting up with you at all - you'll never amount to anything - what's the point of all this studying, all this dancing, all this skating, it'll never count for anything - better to have never existed at all, so they might have lived - you'll never be happy like your cousin, like your friends clearly are behind your back. If they can't even trust you with their secrets why would anyone else trust you with anything - what's the point, just give up - give in, give in, give in -_

Yuri kicked out in his bed, sweating, and his own wretched cry woke him up. Instantly he was crying behind his hands, trying to keep quiet, trying not to wake his guardians up. He... he hated bothering them.

 _A burden!_ The voice echoed again, and Yuri clenched his fists.  _No_... he did his best to argue back.

He hated this. He hated this so much. This voice that came to him in his sleep, dragging him to dark places in his dreams and leaving him feeling devoid of light in the morning. He hated that voice. He had no idea who it belonged to, it was never a mockery of those it referred to, it didn't even sound like himself.

Yuri had very few people in his life, and those he did he cared for considerably, liked and loved even. But that voice in his nightmares... he hated it. Would gladly gouge out his own brain if it meant never hearing it again. For it was cruel, left him with doubts that wouldn't shift in the morning light. He didn't have many people in his life, his life wasn't entirely normal, and hinged on the generosity of people who didn't owe it to him to always be there... but the people he did have were good people. They would never do that to anyone, let alone him, and he hated the voice for suggesting that they weren't good. It could say what it liked about him, but not them.

Yuri sat up, and as he did he caught the sliver of light that was slicing through the gap in the shutters on the window. He got up, opened the shutters, and his eyes widened. A full moon... were it not for the milky glow of it, it was almost as bright as daylight, Yuri might have thought it was dawn. Pretty.

Yuri stared out for a long while, waiting for sleep to return to him. It didn't. Sighing, he admired the light again. He might not even need torches...

He tugged on hakama over a kimono, thick socks to tuck the ends in, got his skates - they were always next to his bed, close by - and quietly crept through the house. He smiled as he passed through, at how the moonlight caught the charms in the windows, making them hum and sing a tiny glass symphony. The cottage was never truly quiet, even as the noisy fairies slept. He could hear Phichit's snores, wondered if he'd be on the ceiling again, and the dangling glass charms chimed as he went by, as though they were saying hello.

The lake wasn't far. It was kind of funny that it took so long for Guang Hong and Leo to realise what Phichit had done to the surface, so many years ago now, but they never liked straying far from the cottage; Phichit joked that it was because they were allergic to the outside. Yuri knew that wasn't true, although Leo did sneeze a lot when the flowers blossomed sometimes. Then Phichit finally admitted it was because they didn't like strangers, and tried to avoid them at all cost. Phichit however had no such qualm, and loved to gossip with the townsfolk whilst he waited for Yuri to finish school.

Now that he was getting older, closer to adolescence... he did wonder. When he was grown up... when he no longer needed guardians to look after him... where would they go? Would they stay, in the cottage buried in the bamboo forest, or... or would they move on to other places, to wherever fairies go when they don't have human wards to look after? He hadn't asked... Yuri didn't want to know yet...

_They'll leave you, they'll abandon you, you'll see, they don't love you at all -_

" _SHUT UP!_ "

Silence.

Yuri bent, breathed deeply, and beat his stupid head. " _Shut up, shut up, shut up_..." Yuri opened his eyes, squinted as they readjusted. It really was bright tonight, and fireflies were out as well. He must have been truly deep in thought; he barely remembered putting his skates on, but he was already in the centre of the lake. He unbent his knees in a swift, smooth motion, smiled as the ease of his own young limbs made him think of the bookshop owner who was old, always asking him to help him with the lower shelves that he couldn't reach anymore.

He rolled his shoulders, and adjusted his feet, ready, a skate behind the other, blade biting into the ice. Then, as a tune began to play in his head, silencing and drowning out all other noise of any kind, Yuri slowly raised his hands from his chest, up over his head, breaking and opening up, closing his eyes. As he moved, he could see Minako-sensei playing the old piano in her studio, inexpertly but well enough for Yuri to find emotion in, a rhythm, a path to follow. Yuri didn't always need the piano, could create a tune just by dancing, or so Minako-sensei complimented. Some early mornings he would improvise on the ice, skated to the birds calling in the trees. Yuri wasn't like the Feltmans and the Giacomettis, who reputedly had small orchestras ready to play for their ice-dancers, or so Minako-sensei teased him.

Yuri lost himself, to the music created by the scratch of his skates on the ice and the hum of the fireflies. He thought of his humble little life in the bamboo forest, and raised his head and hands to the stars, thanking them for his fate. The lords of the clans might have their orchestras, but Tosuu Yuri had his own simpler wealth. He had passions in his life - his dancing, his skating, his studies - and he had love from everyone in his little corner of the world. The voice could go to hell every time it tried to make him think that he lived in poverty.

He lined up for a jump, and he knew he was going to fall before he even left the ice - _falling down again_ \- shut up! He got back up without hesitation. It was fine, no worry, to be expected; he had barely stretched before starting, had been moving just so in order to loosen up, warm up. Try again... the second time he lifted off exactly how he wanted to, as his notes from Cousin Mariko's friend told him to, and he twisted round a couple of times before he swung his leg out to land, smiled, and kept going, keeping up with the music playing. Nishigori played the harmonica sometimes, and Yuri bent the notes to fit with Minako-sensei's piano, with the morning bird songs, with Yuuko's absent minded humming when she was writing lines.

The sleeves of his kimono billowed as he spun, and he could feel the mist that had clung to his hair stream out, dug his skate in to stop and throw the motion back, crossing his arms high, and the music ended.

He breathed... the voice was silenced. It didn't matter if dancing and skating were for nothing. It wasn't anyway.  _It's for me_.

"Perfect..."

_... What...?_

Yuri looked up... and understood what beauty was.

Long, long hair the colour of moonstones. Cheekbones cut with precision. A sharp, long, elegant nose. Older than Yuri, but... young. Very young. Eyes of such colour Yuri had never seen, so blue he must have been imagining them in the misty moon. So beautiful he could be eternally young...

Like a spirit... and behind him in the mist, the silhouette of... of a beast...

 _Run_.

Panic incinerated his mind, and Yuri turned and sprinted away unthinkingly. He thought the spirit called out to him, but his pulse was pounding in his ears, drowning everything out. Yuri almost cried with fear; Guang Hong had warned him sternly that there were creatures out there that meant no good, that would show no mercy to the innocent and rip them to shreds... he didn't want to die like that. He didn't want to die at all, for all the temptation of that infernal voice from his nightmares. Even the dark voice was terrified, ordering him to skate faster to the lake's bank, berating him for yanking his skates off too slowly, shouted at him to abandon the skates where they fell so he could run home barefoot...

 _Please don't hurt me_...

Yuri slammed the door shut behind him, and he slumped against it, breathing hard,  _relieved_ to be home. He was safe at home.

As he slowly calmed down, Yuri blushed. The... had it been a spirit? He felt like an idiot; he'd never seen a spirit before, how was he supposed to know what one looked like? And... whatever it was... he... he didn't look... dangerous. Just... beautiful. Really beautiful.

Yuri sighed. He'd run away. He'd panicked. Maybe... maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe... maybe he should go back, and apologise... maybe -

"Yuri?" He started, and looked up to see Phichit yawning at the top of the stairs. "Is... is everything alright?"

Yuri didn't know that his guardians were afraid that he kept secrets from them. He didn't know, any more than they really did, that they feared this because of their own secrets; if they kept things back from Yuri then of course Yuri kept things back from them. In actual fact... Yuri was certainly shy, would never be one to volunteer details he was uncomfortable with, but if asked he would tell the truth. He didn't keep secrets from them.

This was the first.

"Yes..." Yuri did his best to smile. "I... I just needed some air. It's hot tonight." He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weight in his belly. "Go back to bed, Phichit-kun. Go back to sleep."

Phichit nodded, yawned again, half asleep already. He turned, and Yuri followed him up.

The fairy never realised Yuri's discomfort, as he didn't remember it at all in the morning; he had only gotten up to relieve himself. Phichit didn't notice either when Yuri lit a candle in his bedroom, got out one of his sketchbooks that Leo had long gifted to him, sharpened a stick of charcoal, and...

Dawn found Yuri slumped over his desk, surrounded by scrunched up pieces of paper, and a single surviving sketch pinned to the wall above his head. The most difficult bit was catching the boy's eyes. Nothing could compare with the reality of them, and it was frustrating trying to capture them, given that...

Yuri was the one who felt caught.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they meet... briefly...
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Good or ill, please let me know if I pulled this off...


	5. VIII-X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the worst is over. Now for something a little lighter.
> 
> FYI... I LOVED writing the first part of this chapter so much :-D

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XIII

* * *

Something was going to happen that night. That much, the Red Raven was certain. For good or ill however... she was less sure, and she was wary of it.

A 'friend' of hers would tease that the stars were aligned tonight. What tosh. The stars were billions of miles away, they didn't give a fig for the actions of specks of carbon.

But... it was warm that night. Not a cloud in the sky. It was the full moon, and it felt like it was celebrating the clear heavens by shining brighter as it had the opportunity.

Good, perhaps. She was so  _bored_...

It had taken a while to find them. All due credit to the Three Grand Prix Fairies for their pick of hiding places. The bamboo had been reluctant to allow her entrance, but... there were all kinds of loopholes, if you were clever enough.

As for the boy...

 _Awww_. What a cutie he was when she found him. Those big eyes and baby fat! The Red Raven typically couldn't stand for children, particularly human children, and even more particularly the children of human nobility, but... again, credit to the Xin fairy; even the Red Raven found herself endeared. The child was pleasant to look at, to watch.

Clever too. Credit to the Columbian fairy.

"Ano..." When the boy was six, he'd already figured out that all was not as it appeared.. "Are you... _what_ are you?"

The Raven cocked her head, and cawed at him. Just because he was speaking to her didn't mean... well, it didn't mean anything. All kinds of fools talk to wildlife in woods. Some even bloody  _sing_. UGH...

"Red ravens don't exist."

... Huh?

"Ravens are black, or blueish, and there's some browny ones, but... not red." The boy fidgeted with his fingers nervously. He did that a lot. "Are you... are you magic too? My guardians are magic, and this forest is magic, and the ice in the lake is magic -" Damn straight it was. The Fairy of Siam's spell wasn't nearly powerful enough to last this long, who did the boy think was keeping it up for him? "And... if you're red, does that mean..."

Young Lord Katsuki Yuri trailed off, looking awkwardly at his feet. The Raven waited, curious. Where was he going with this? "I read a book about ravens -" Had he now? Why did he do that? How long had he known she was watching? "- And..." He blushed, embarrassed. Damn straight he should be embarrassed, talking this long to a _bird_ , even if it was her. "And they said... that ravens meant b-bad things. 'Omens', the book said. But... you're red. It's... it's pretty. Does... does that mean that... not bad things?"

... Intriguing. For such a young human, the Raven couldn't discredit how he had built this supposition. He was wrong, of course, red was her favourite colour and that was as complicated as it got, but... hmm.

She cawed at him again, and flew off. Let him think what he wanted. When he spotted her watching him skate again he waved, and then blushed - again, so he should - and then carried on skating. He was still getting the hang of going backwards then, but at least he didn't slip and fall so much. He had made good progress, particularly given that his guidance was in the form of messy notes from a nine year old.

He only had less than fifteen years left. That was sobering. She made doubly sure that the iced lake never melted.

And rolled her eyes later when the boy's guardians made such a fuss, and cast their dispelling charm over the area to make sure no one ever found it. Too bad she was more powerful than them, and that she had already found it anyway. That idiot though, the Chulanont fae, not paying attention. Was he  _trying_ to invite trouble? The Raven smirked to herself, and made no move to assist. It would be interesting to see if the spell held, and what would break through...

It was really boring, waiting. Lord Katsuki Yuri - no, what was it that they called him... Tosuu, Tosuu Yuri. What a load of rubbish; know how they came up with that, the great Three Grand Prix Fairies? It was the first letters of three samurai that they had once served, many generations ago; Toyonaga, Suwabe, and Uchiyama. For a set of fairies who were just as ancient as she was, they were alarmingly sentimental, ugh - anyway...

The boy was... it was a nice life, and for little Yuri, a child for whom every day was different, with its variances in his studies and the banal conversations of his friends and his progressions with his skating, but for the Red Raven, who had lived for centuries... it was very much the same day in, day out. He woke up, went to school, helped his guardians with chores (it had been so funny when his parents found out that their son washed his own dishes. And could  _cook_. And  _not_ give himself food poisoning, which was more than could be said of the fairies. They had surprised her, the Katsuki's; they had been _proud_ ) and then he skated. And as pleasant as it was to have such entertainment readily available... it was a bit samey. He practiced, did the odd dance. But his audience consisted of crickets, sparrows, the odd fox, his guardians on one of the rare occasions that the Xin and Columbian fairy left the house, and occasionally his parents and his sister.

Ah. Lady Katsuki Mari. The Raven liked Lady Mari. The girl had _spunk_. The Red Raven was quite happy to just watch and not interfere, certain that Lady Mari would amuse her; she was going to thoroughly upset the clan with her considerable  _competence_.

And he skated for her, the Raven, she guessed. At thirteen years old he still acknowledged her with a bow of his head whenever he spotted her. Strange boy. She wondered if he would remain this sweet when puberty hit in full force. Then it might get interesting.

Until then... well, she'd been distracting herself. A month ago she gave the young Lord Jean-Jacques Leroy a life-long phobia of birds (oh, that had been soooo funny...), and a couple of months before that, she cast a spell on a litter of poodle puppies, so that the runt would grow to be as big as a stallion (cuuuuuuuute! So  _fluffy_! And the look on Lord Yakov's face;  _worth it_. Lord Victor, dopey boy that he was, had absolutely  _loved_ it). And every now and then something darker would try to encroach the bamboo forest, and she got stretch her talons. Amongst yokai kind, all was fair, as she pointed out to the last monster she ripped the head off, just because. She wasn't yokai anyway.

She was a Raven of Mischief. She could do what she wanted.

And... it wasn't like it was at all tempting to go home. Georgi and Anya were back together. Yet again.  _Ugh_...

That... rankled. It was why the Red Raven refused to return to the Wizard of Popovich. It was all for nothing.

She and Georgi had been friends for a long, long time. That afforded her every right to laugh at his folly. But... this was beyond folly.

The Raven narrowed her sapphire eyes at the moon, not really seeing it, not in the slightest annoyed by it, but by the thought that crossed her mind. For all she knew they were probably broken up again by now. Georgi and Anya never lasted long. All these centuries of on/off, and they had spent more of that time in the latter than the former, and no matter which there was always ridiculous amounts of drama. But this time they had gone too far, and she still was too pissed off with them to return.

She cocked her head; she'd heard the cottage door open carefully. Huh, odd. Rare for the boy to come to the ice at this time, for all his obsession with it. Then he came into view; a mere glance at the boy's face and she understood. Ah, another nightmare. She frowned, second-guessing. Not from the curse though... she would have known if he was suffering an attack. The cottage was starting to shake when those came.

That night he didn't notice her, didn't greet her. She hadn't expected him to; without his glasses, she knew his long-vision was practically nil, and it was misty tonight from the summer heat trying to melt the ice. Little Lord Yuri - hmm. Not so little any more. Already he was just taller than the Xin fairy, almost level with the Siam fairy - stopped at the ice's edge and sat to put on his skates, shuffled to the edge and carefully pushed off the grassy bank to stand. Within a few steps he'd already gathered decent speed, and started doing laps round the ice, warming up.

Yuri was clearly in his own little world, a frown stuck on his face, eyes unseeing entirely, as -

A shadow passed over the moon. The Raven looked up and -  _what the_ hell _is_ that _?!_

 _Something_ \- a giant... dog? Ah, crap... - couldn't slow down in time before it lost control of its descent and crashed through, hitting the top of the valley and rolled down. The enlarged dog hit the ice and rolled and slid across, and... was that a  _person_ on the dog's back? Oh hell...

Out of the corner of her eye, the skater came to a slow stop, but seemed utterly unaware of... the Raven frowned, why was he shaking his head, never mind...

The giant dog shook his head too, but to rattle out the shock of the landing, and slowly the human on its back looked up.

The Raven's beak dropped open, shocked.  _No... shit, no... what was Lord Victor doing here?_

The sixteen year old boy slowly slid off the dog's back, who tried and failed several times to get his legs under him, and licked at Victor's hands as the boy gripped on to stay upright.  _Damn it_. The Raven dropped out of the tree, shock her feathers away and landed on her human feet silently. She kept to the shadows, frowning at how her limbs ached; it had been a long time since she had held this secondary form. She watched Victor step forward gingerly, staring about himself, at the ice under his feet, disbelieving.

Hmm. There was something... _wrong_ with him. She could see it. The Raven frowned, her expressions easier to read on her human face. There was...  _how_ did he get through the fairies' dispelling charm...? They weren't  _that_ ineffective...

" _SHUT UP_!"

 _What the -!_ The Raven started, forgot all about Lord Victor as Lord Yuri bent into himself, struggling, his normally soft and gentle face ruined with anguish. She watched as the boy slowly pulled himself together, watched as Lord Victor tried to spot him in the mist, and then...

Then he skated.

... Oh...

The boy had... his practicing had paid off... it was good. Very good. Beautiful, even. A pity about that first jump, but he tried again and got it. Stubborn indeed. The Raven forgot to worry about Lord Victor's presence, as stunned as he was. Yuri's skating had never been so...

"Perfect..."

 _Damn it. No, no, no..._ this wouldn't work at all, it was too soon. The Raven flicked out a hand, and Yuri turned tail before he could properly think why, and the Raven didn't even bother watching him run away, flicked out her hand again to ensure that Victor's feet slipped under him. She needed to sort this out. She came out of the shadows, approached. "You're early," she berated Victor.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and just before she lifted her hand again, she saw a look flash through his face; huh. He wanted to excuse himself, and then run after the escaped skater. _Sorry, my lord. Not tonight_. She caught his limp body as his eyes rolled back at another wave of her hand.

The giant dog gave an unhappy whimper, like it would dearly love to growl at her, but was too afraid to. Wise.

"Don't worry, I mean no harm. You may have your master back." And she picked Victor's limp body up and placed him back on to the saddle on the dog's back, slumping the young man forward into the dog's neck. "What did possess you, to bring him here though..."

She stroked back the boy's long silver hair, lingered her hand at his temple... what was wrong with -

_Straw._

The Raven's hand flinched back, horrified. _What_...  _what the hell was that...?!_

The dog whimpered, remembering, and she straightened, cleared her throat, trying to not feel affected. She narrowed her eyes at Lord Victor's sleeping face... and sighed, feeling... inadequate.

This memory was of a cruel, inconsiderate minute of a man too stupid to be anything other than selfish, and it would be easy for the Red Raven to use her magic to erase it. She was tempted to do so... but it had already taken root in Lord Victor's mind, was already changing the young man. She could take the memory but not the change, and without the memory the change would curdle without its explanation; she would not be doing him any favours. The fear and pain would remain, and he would run mad trying to figure out what had scared and hurt him so.

She couldn't help. It was... peculiar, realising that she would like to help.

She stepped away, to face the dog's enormous face, stared deep into its big, black eyes. She studied the dog. The dog studied her. It barely blinked... but after a while it wagged its tail.

"You are a strange one. I had no idea that my spell would work out this way," the Raven said, amused.

The dog woofed inquisitively.

"Who am I?" The Raven cocked her head. Hmm, how to introduce herself to a giant canine. So many mortals only knew her as the Red Raven. But others... "Call me Mila."

The dog barked again, wagged its tail again.

"Makkachin?" She laughed. "That's a nice name. Why did he call you that?"

Makkachin gave a huff. _He_ didn't know. Then he sniffed, and woofed again.

"The boy on the ice...?" Mila raised a hand to her chin, deliberating how much to tell the dog. "Hmm... his name is Yuri." Makkachin wagged his tail. "He smells nice? Well, if you say so."

Makkachin tried to get up again, and once again slumped to the ice inelegantly, and he gave a grumbling growl at his own paws.

"I'm sorry, Makkachin, but you can't come back here again."

Makkachin whimpered pitifully, barked stubbornly at her.

"I know. But you won't be able to find your way back here anyway." Mila looked over her shoulder, towards where a cottage was in the dark, with a knowing smile. "Your Lord Victor won't be so lost after this." She turned back to the dog, and bent down a little to be level with his eyes. "It'll all turn out okay in the end, I think."

Makkachin sniffed, and woofed again. The Raven pulled an exasperated face at him. "What do you mean, how do you get home?! How did you get here at all?! Eh..." The Raven rolled her eyes, and straightened back up again. "Come on then. Follow me. I'll lead you home."

She waved her hand again, and the giant poodle finally found his footing on the ice, and he panted happily his thanks.

"You're welcome. You know... you don't  _have_ to stay like that. You miss sleeping next to Victor, right? You _can_ do that."

Makkachin blinked at her. Oh. He hadn't known that.

* * *

IX

* * *

Victor woke with a groan, struggled to open his eyes. His pillow was softer than normal... hairier. He felt groggy... like he hadn't slept in days and nothing was real anymore. "... Makkachin?"

He got an answering woof, but the dog was concentrating. Victor felt the wind through his hair again, smiled tiredly. "Are... are we flying again?" Again, Makkachin woofed. "Are we flying home...?"

If the dog answered him, he didn't hear it. He was sure that they weren't alone... was that a crow with them? He closed his eyes again...

... And was woken by Makkachin licking his face.

"Ma... Makka...?"

The dog woofed gently, and Victor slowly peered around them, leaning up on his knees. They were in the palace gardens, alone. Dawn was approaching, the sky purpling, with dark clouds heading their way. A storm, Victor instinctively thought. Or so it felt, were he still in Turicum. It occurred to him that he was still unfamiliar with the palace in Piter. Maybe it would just be overcast...

In any case... Victor hung his head. Without that familiarity... where was home? Where was safe?

The boy on the lake... he envied him... he envied the boy on the frozen lake who could skate so freely, so beautifully, so emotively. How could he do that? How could he feel so...

Strong. Unyielding, every movement pushing away something unseen and unwanted so determinedly. Then... contentment. The boy had glided and spun like he was a blossom dancing on the breeze, making its own way to the ground at its own pace, regardless of what gravity thought. As though grace could be defiant, and the blossom could choose to fly if it so willed.

Makkachin's big nose biffed Victor's head, dug under his chin and lifted his face up so he could lick it again. Victor smiled despite himself at his giant dog's affection, reached out and stroked the bridge of Makkachin's nose. "I'm alright, Makkachin... I'm alright."

The dog whimpered, not believing him, and then cocked his head, as if considering something. Then he started shaking out his fur, and -

Victor stared down at his dog. His perfectly normal-sized poodle, that had shrunk as though letting out the air as he shook. Makkachin wagged his tail and panted proudly, and Victor started laughing. "Oh Makkachin... you really are full of surprises!" And he reached out and hugged him, grinning genuinely now that he could reach his arms round him properly. Makkachin licked his ear, fidgeted, and stared up at his human as Victor eventually let go and stood. "You can sleep with me again now! Can you get big again, or...?"

Makkachin woofed. Victor took that as a yes... or something.

Meanwhile, the Red Raven smiled to herself, sighed and flew. She had business she had to attend to, it appeared.

* * *

X

* * *

Yuri finally woke up that morning in a fever, self-inflicted by his nightmares and the ice and even more sleeplessness, his body pushed past its limits by stress. Phichit shooed him back to bed rather than send him to school, the heat so prominent in his cheeks, his forehead burning.

"No skating today!" Guang Hong scolded, and faltered when his charge blushed, and nodded, and went back upstairs after barely managing to swallow a few mouthfuls of porridge. The rare times when Guang Hong told Yuri that he couldn't skate he normally looked absolutely devastated. Yuri wanted to skate even when he was sick, when it was raining, when Guang Hong heard that there were wild bears about (there never were, Phichit just thought it was funny watching Guang Hong be paranoid).

In bed, Yuri slept for a bit, to catch up. Then he slept some more. And some more.

When he finally woke, it was nearly dinner time, and the exhaustion was sated. Yuri sat up slowly, put his glasses back on, which made no difference to his hazy, overslept vision, and he laid back against his pillow, sprawled, staring up at the ceiling. He was so deep in thought he couldn't actually think properly; streams of consciousness were like waves on the beach.

He hadn't dreamt at all. It had been peaceful. Yuri had wondered, between one of the stretches last night, whether he'd dream of the... boy? Man? Something else...? Whoever or whatever he'd seen on the ice. He couldn't fathom why anyone had been there; he'd never even taken Yuuko and Nishigori there, because Phichit told him they wouldn't be able to, that the magic of the bamboo would bewilder them, that it took great exception for Uncle Toshiryu, Aunt Hirokei and Cousin Mariko to be allowed in. So... how... _who_...

 _His eyes_...  _his eyes had been... so... so_ blue _... his favourite colour..._

Yuri shook his head, raising his hands to his cheeks, even though there was no one there to see them go red. The fever was gone from earlier, the rest fixing all; children are more resilient than we give them credit.

_His hair... it was so long... shining like the moon... no! Stop thinking about it! Stop!_

_... Why stop?_

Yuri's hands flinched, and slowly lifted. His eyes flickered about, as though the ceiling might have answers written on it. Well... why stop? What harm was there in thinking?

Yuri turned and stared at the window, at the summer evening sky. Blue. Not as blue as the boy's eyes.

He'd looked... sad. Amazed, but... sad. Why?

Oh. Yuri sat up, remembering. He'd left his skates down there by the lake.

He waited until after dinner. In the hours before bed, all three guardians would often retire with their crystal balls, catching up with friends in multiple worlds, so it was easy to dart out of the house. He didn't even need to sneak out, which was nice; they could always assume where he was going, correctly in this instance, as in  _all_ instances.

It wasn't as misty today; rain was looming overhead, yet to break, and the temperature had plummeted with the disappearance of the sun, so the ice was clear, perfectly visible all the way to every edge. Yuri found his skates easily, hesitated... then skated out to check.

He wasn't here.

Yuri found himself confused. He didn't know whether or not to be relieved... or disappointed.

The latter one. The former too, but mostly... Yuri was surprised to be disappointed. He had so many questions... why was the silver-haired boy there? What was the shadowy creature behind it? Why had he looked so sad? Why did he looked so amazed? Who was he?

 _Perfect_ , he'd said... perfect what?

Maybe he was a monster after all, and he thought that Yuri looked like a perfect snack. Yuri whimpered at the thought, cradling his arms. But... that... that didn't sound right. That sounded silly, actually. The boy didn't look at Yuri like he was hungry. That really was silly. Besides, Phichit had told him, little boys didn't taste very nice at all, although he was probably joking at the time, because he then tickled Yuri and made silly growling noises. Yuri had only been seven at the time.

Yuri came to the spot where the boy had been. He looked down at the ice; he could just about see the marks from boots - _no shoes on the ice_ , he had often shouted in a panic at Phichit when he tried to skate without proper blades and just hover, scuffing the ice - and... the scratch marks of four legs further back. Yuri knelt and peered closer at the scratches. Huh. If the marks weren't so far apart, and if the shadow it had created hadn't been so ginormous, he'd say a dog maybe.

Or maybe... Had he just... panicked a bit, and imagined it was bigger than it was, or a trick of the moonlight maybe? Maybe...

Thunder rumbled, and raindrops began to fall. Yuri tilted his face into the rain for a moment, unperturbed, and then sighed. He wasn't going to find any answers to his many questions. Suspected he never would. And... the rain made it dangerous to skate; the ice wouldn't melt for anything, but the rain sat on top until it dried up. Yuri skated back to the edge, and -

And looked back.

Still no one.

Yuri dropped his head, only disappointed this time. No one ever came into the woods, no one, except his Aunt Hirokei, Uncle Toshiryu and Cousin Mariko. As much as he loved his guardians, and his relatives, he... he could never bring friends to the house, even though he only had Yuuko and Nishigori. They got to play every evening after school, because they lived on opposite sides of the same street, shouting conversations from open windows. (Yuuko told him about some of the things that got the neighbours to shout out to tell them to shut up. She'd started to blush sometimes at the mention of Nishigori. Yuri didn't understand why.)

But if the boy could appear on the lake... maybe... maybe they could be...

Maybe they could be friends...

... No, that was a stupid idea, Yuri shook his head angrily. Who would want to be...?

* * *

To be continued...


	6. XI-XII

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XI

* * *

To Lord Yakov's shame, it took longer than it ought to have done to realise that his son hadn't left his room in quite some time.

Not... properly, anyway. Victor bathed, every night, in the onsen Lord Yakov long ago installed for his friend Lord Toshiya, as a hospitable joke between them (Lord Katsuki loved the idea, had consulted on it even), and he knew that his eldest was sneaking his... dog - he did not have words for that canine - into the grotto (not the bath itself). He knew that Victor had asked for food to be brought to his room every now and then, but barely ate any of the meagre bread and cheese that he requested, evidently barely having an appetite for that either. And he took that silly poodle out -  _how_ had it shrunk back down again?  _Why_ had it become so  _big_ in the first place?  _God_ , Yakov hated magic... - and the two would walk around the gardens, asking the attendants to clear the space for him to be alone. The dog would do its business, and Victor would sit on a bench, deep in melancholy.

Otherwise, by all accounts... Victor didn't leave his room.

Lord Yakov went in there after a couple of days, and found his son asleep, the poodle spooned in his arms. The poodle woke, and whimpered forlornly at Yakov, as though... as though asking for help.  _Help him_ , the dog seemed to ask, with his big eyes. Lord Yakov was tempted to ask aloud  _how_ ,  _how_ could he help his boy get out of bed, but...

Was he homesick? Was it a mistake to have him return for good from Turicum? He thought Victor had been pleased,  _very_ pleased in fact, at the news that his time at the boarding school was over, and that Chris could join him here in the palace in Piter. No, Lord Yakov's instincts told him it wasn't anything to do with Turicum. The change was... swift. One day his son had been his normal self, polite and affable with courtier and servant alike, had been ludicrously excited when Makkachin grew so much and the two went out riding -  _riding_ , for...  _RIDING_ _. A dog._ God help him - together and Victor came back full of laughter.

Then one day he didn't come down to breakfast. Yura went stomping up, annoyed at the break in routine, and came down in a sulk, explaining that Victor had barely slept and was exhausted. That wasn't the language he used, and his mother had to scold him, but that was the gist.

Victor didn't come down for lunch either, a less formal affair in any case though; Lord Yakov often took his separately from his family to fit around his meetings - the Leroy's were close to agreeing the terms of a lessening of tariffs on goods traded between the two clan lands - but his wife told him later that Victor had still been asleep, the curtains closed, and buried under the covers so deeply that it didn't make a difference when she opened them. He wasn't hungry, he'd gently told her. Maybe a bad letter from young Lord Giacometti?

Perhaps. But he hadn't been at dinner either, and eventually the kitchen staff admitted to taking up the bread and cheese as requested. Yakov went up to check on his son - he was getting anxious now, on the teeter between being angry at Victor's shunning or worried by it. But his room was empty, and a servant came past and said that Lord Victor was in the bath-house.

Lord Toshiya had advised Lord Yakov, long ago and admittedly when both had drank far more vodka than they could handle, never to disturb a man deep in thought in the bath. He was very poetic about it even; the thoughts of a troubled man take to the air to be examined, and when at peace with they join the steam and float away. But if you disturb him they'll fall and drown him. It's terrible manners to drown someone, Toshiya had said emphatically. So Yakov grumbled to himself and left his teenage son to be, as he saw it, a teenager.

The next day more of the same. Except Lord Yakov was becoming more convinced that Victor was feigning sleep more often than not, when he was checked on. At least... at least he hadn't locked the door. Yura had a terrible tendency to do that when he was sulking. He watched his son walk his dog around the gardens from the window, saw... saw the way that Victor's shoulders would change when he thought no one was looking. Like he was deflated, all the air gushing out of him. His tall, beautiful son became so... frail, small...  _broken_.

What happened to him? What happened...?

He tried to ask. Five days in, when Victor's eyes had prominent black shadows under them and Lord Yakov was certain that he'd lost weight, he asked if someone had done something to scare him. Victor shrank into himself so quickly, literally, physically in front of his father, that the answer was painfully obvious. Yes... more than scare. Had  _hurt_.

Lord Yakov saw red. Victor's eyes widened as his father exploded with fury, apoplectic, and practically ordered his son to reveal who had dared to lay their hands on him. Even more chilling was Victor's continued, stunned silence, and his father, his anger confused from lack of direction, had to stomp out of his son's room to yell for the clan's physician to come to the palace. Lilia had to order him to not be there when the doctor did his examination, Victor looking like he wanted to vomit from embarrassment, so obviously trying not to cry, and Lilia dragged her husband out of the room, closed the doors behind her, and stood guard, watching as Lord Yakov paced furiously up and down the corridor outside.

The physician, when he came out, wisely whispered quickly into Lady Lilia's ear first. She gave a curt nod and seized her husband and dragged him to his study. "Not here in the corridor," she said in a low voice, cutting through and Lord Yakov stopped and nodded, and followed.

"Lord Victor has some bruises on his forearms, he says from a bad landing with...err... the dog," the physician explained in a calm, matter of fact voice once they had privacy. "But he also has some peculiar bruises on his hips..." And then demonstrated with his hand on his own hip, and... Lord Yakov and Lady Lilia understood immediately. "Has the young lord ended an affair recently? It might explain the recent melancholy. Do you know the girl's name?"

Lord Yakov stared at the old man. Girl's... what? He understood what the physician was telling him, but... also part of him didn't. This was his son they were talking about, his first born, his Vitya. Vitya who had been a newborn baby recently - not that recently, Lord Yakov had to correct himself - and whom he had watched being tucked into bed by his mother - again, a long time ago now - and who had been so excited when he started to learn to skate - oh god, he was so  _old_ \- and who had cried so much when he had to be sent away and just kept getting taller and more handsome every time Yakov saw his boy. Vitya was his child, not... not an adult who got finger-marks from energetic lovers, not... not...

When did Victor grow up? He was sixteen already, would be seventeen when winter came. Had Yakov missed so much...?

Not only that, but... was that it? Other than some bruises, was that  _it_? Vitya hardly ate, hardly slept, hardly spoke to anyone... all from a break-up with some girl?! He had always known that Victor had a gentle soul, but... fragile, no. His father knew him better than that... or... at least... he hoped he still did. Victor had always weathered through, through his mother leaving, through her funeral, had embraced Lilia and Yura, had glowing reports from Turicum. After all that... some  _girl_  wouldn't break him, surely...?

But Victor had looked so frightened... so... Lord Yakov's gut churned. Oh... so frightened of... of  _him_. Of his own father, losing his patience.

He shouldn't have lost his temper. He shouldn't have shouted. If Victor wanted... wanted to keep secrets over... over an affair, like... well, like most teenage boys probably would, then... then that was only fair. He shouldn't have been so heavy-handed.

Meanwhile, Victor tried not to sob with relief into the rug, where his knees had given out beneath him. The physician had been thorough, respectful, and thankfully too respectful and not thorough enough. Victor was certain that there were more bruises to be found in places he couldn't inspect himself, though he might have been paranoid about that. He  _felt_ bruised, torn... the bad landing on to the frozen lake hadn't helped, and he'd been struggling to find comfortable positions to lie in.

The baths were helping. He felt... clearer. Cleaner. The bath-tub made him think of the Katsukis, of their affectionate smiles, of how they swore that the hot spring water in Hasetsu could cure anything. He didn't have the water of Hasetsu, but the Piter water was still clean, pure. And Makkachin hadn't left his side, was always in reach, was nuzzling at him on the rug, urging him to get back up with his whimpers.

He did need to get back up. Victor knew that. He... he hated feeling like this, now that he finally had enough energy to think that. He gave himself another day - hopefully by then all aches would be gone by then - and... that meant he had a chance to sleep properly that night. He hadn't slept through the night since before... since before. He hadn't really left his bed all this time, other than to walk Makkachin, and bathe and other necessities.

He got up off the floor, and slowly walked to the mirror at the dressing table. He looked... he looked terrible. Gaunt, unhappy, he didn't even have the energy to fake a smile to himself. His clothes were disheveled, his long hair was a mess from lying on it, his -

_He'd gripped his hair._

Victor turned away from the mirror, feeling sick. The next day, when he came out, properly dressed, for breakfast, he was glad that Lady Lilia was always the first at the table, and that he'd caught her before his father and brother had come down. She was not a woman of much expression, but he could sense her surprise, her relief at seeing him. He thanked her for handling his father the day before, and she waved her hand; no thanks needed. Then he asked her for a favour.

When Christophe finally arrived in Piter to finish his studies with a private tutor, rushed from a letter from Lord Yakov asking him to hurry up as his son was missing him, he was shocked. His friend had cut his hair off, one eye almost permanently hidden behind a wave of silver. It  _changed_ him. He looked... he didn't look like a child anymore, even though...

Victor was only sixteen. Legally perhaps he was an adult, was responsible for himself, but...

He, like all of us, was definitely not meant to have grown up yet.

* * *

XII

* * *

Two years passed. Yuri sighed. He never saw the boy on the lake again. He needed to forget about it, but... he didn't.

Anyway...

He'd seen this coming, the event which he was witnessing. Half of him wanted to be happy, to join the other half of him that genuinely was. But...

Yuuko was marrying Takeshi. She was going to be a Nishigori. And, she confided, the wedding needed to be soon.

It was all too grown up for Yuri.

He was still in school, fifteen. Yuuko and Takeshi had finished their studies, to Minako-sensei's more or less satisfaction, last year, and Yuuko's father had caught his daughter kissing Takeshi behind the bakery, to no one's surprise. Now that everyone could stop pretending that the two were amorous, they could all get on with the task of preparing for a future where they were joined in matrimony, and all that that entailed.

Yuri was not naive about any of it, of any of what was to come and was already here; the bookshop stocked some reference books that were honest, clinical, and thus he had had a far better idea of the changes that his body would go through when puberty hit than his guardians did; fairies had no equivalent, or certainly didn't remember if they did. As far as they could remember, they had always been as they were, they didn't grow to be what they were. So when the books eventually failed to enlighten, Yuri turned, with bright red cheeks, to the only male adult figure in his life; Uncle Toshiryu had blinked at the then thirteen year old, who was blushing red at his own question ("can you tell me about puberty?"), and he went and raided the cupboards of the cottage, shooed the women and the fairies away with surprising authority, sat at the table and took a slug of the only alcohol in the house - amarula, the bottle said, it was quite nice - and then asked his unknowing son what he wanted to know, putting the bottle back into the cupboard.

And Lord Toshiya told his son everything he needed to know with frankness, honesty, and much, much benevolence. Years ago, his wife had had a similar conversation with Mari, and at the time he mourned that he would never get to do the same with his son, absent as he was. So whilst absolutely nothing had prepared him for this conversation... it filled his heart to be able to have it. Toshiya remembered having a similar conversation, a very long time ago with the court physician, who had been unhelpfully vague and spent more concentration on pretending to not be flustered than on being informative. Toshiya had also been present when his father-in-law had given very boisterous and ridiculous advice to his brothers-in law, and had been more impressed by his openness than that of the former. He went his own way, and answered his son's questions at that table, just the two of them, their voices low and private, and did his best not to embarrass him. Where words failed, they got paper and pencil.

When they went home, his wife turned to him and said she wasn't sure if she had ever been prouder of her husband.

So Yuri knew his voice would change, just like Nishigori's had. That he would get taller, that he would become more muscular, no longer as skinny as skating had made his child's body but rather more toned for it. That hair would grow in places it hadn't been, the same colour as the rest of his hair (not ginger, as some of the boys in the playground joked), and that his anatomy would grow bigger too. Not overnight, they wouldn't suddenly balloon to full size (again, playground nonsense), but gradually albeit noticeably, and as long as he wore sensible trousers like he did now, no one would notice those changes. And no, he would not bleed every month like girls did, and he should consider himself lucky on that score.

Lord Toshiya told his 'nephew' that he would probably start to feel different, more... and at that point, Toshiya wasn't entirely sure what the right word was. 'Manly' didn't seem right, particularly as Lord Toshiya couldn't explain what 'manly' even meant. He settled for just 'more'. He warned that Yuri's moods might be a little strange, that it might be difficult and frustrating, but that eventually he would learn how they were like and settle into it.

He said that Yuri would notice beautiful people more. Would... lust after them, want more than just to look at them, would want to touch them perhaps. The generic 'people' and 'them' wasn't even deliberate, it was simply that Toshiya himself got a little shy about explaining lust to his wide-eyed son that he was pretending to be an uncle to. His thirteen-year-old son didn't need to know the practicalities of how to make babies after all, that would be a later conversation perhaps. That and...

In the land of the Katsuki clan, there was less... taboo about the honest matter of fact that some men lusted after men, and some women lusted after women. As long as no harm was done, no embarrassment made, and above all duty to one's family was upheld, affairs of the heart weren't really anyone's business. Duty and love were two very separate concepts, and marriage and love didn't always go hand-in-hand. Toshiya was lucky in that life had conspired to eventually make both synonymous; not all were, most were lucky if love came later in marriage. But Toshiya didn't think about any of that as he spoke to Yuri, didn't feel the need to explain it either. He promised that when Yuri was older, when such feelings came, Yuri was welcome to ask him more questions then.

He did tell his son one thing; assume that, unless they make it very obvious otherwise, it's not okay to touch. If Yuri did touch someone who didn't want to be touched, expect to be touched back in the form of a slap. When Yuri frowned, utterly confused, Toshiya sagely told him he had learnt this from watching his brother, who had been slapped many times, and rightly so.

So when the morning came soon after that Yuri woke up with a sticky nightshirt for the first time, he had at least been expecting it at some point, though he still blushed as the memory of the inspiring dream held fast whilst the sun remained low on the horizon.

The boy on the lake. His imagination had had to work hard to guess what it would feel like, but Yuuko's father was not the first to catch her kissing Takeshi, so at least Yuri knew what it _looked_ like to kiss someone...

It hadn't felt real, had felt dream-like. But Yuri... he wanted so, so,  _so_ much to know what it really did feel like...

But the boy never reappeared. Sometimes Yuri wondered if it had been a dream in the first instance, was devastated by the thought. Then he shook his head at himself stubbornly and pushed the doubt away. No, that couldn't be the case, he was sure. The boy was so beautiful Yuri's imagination couldn't possibly have conjured him.

He could remember him almost perfectly. Some of it had become hazy with time; he couldn't remember exactly how tall he was, or exactly how long the boy's hair was, only that strands of it framed his sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw, and his eyes... Yuri never forgot the exact shade of blue of his eyes, that irreplicable blue.

And, though this might only have been his imagination by then, the light pink of the boy's lips.

Yuri flinched, shook his head, and tried to pay attention. His only childhood friends were getting married only feet away from him, Yuuko wondrously beautiful in her white kimono, trying to hide the beginnings of a bulge in her belly, Takeshi... well, he looked alright as well, but more importantly... he looked happy. Incredibly happy. Yuri was glad, relieved even. For a moment there, he had wondered when Yuuko told him the News if Takeshi would do the honourable thing... Yuri smiled. Takeshi was doing one better; he wasn't doing the honourable thing or the right thing by marrying Yuuko... he was doing the lucky thing.

Lucky... Yuri sighed. He wondered... he was only fifteen, and lived a peculiar life in the woods with his three fairy guardians, but... would he, one day, be so lucky too...?

 _Don't be so foolish_.

Later, watching the bride and groom dance together, Yuri tried not to cry. He needed to give up the hope that one day this might be him, and certainly that the boy he saw would return and dazzle him again. What would be the point of him returning anyway? To be friends? With  _Yuri_? Please... why would he bother doing that? Time to move on, and forget it all.

He didn't forget. Didn't move on at all.

Meanwhile, as Yuri attended the festivities in the town, the three fairies fished out the bottle of amarula and sat down for a serious conversation. They were running out of time... they needed to figure out what the next few years could possibly look like.

Minako-sensei had made it clear to Phichit that Yuri could have graduated school already, the boy smarter than all of his peers by quite some measure, but he was wanted to remain until he was sixteen, like all the other children, like Yuuko and Takeshi had. If they had the opportunity, she said that the boy could have qualified for _Le Turicum École_ , the most prestigious school in all the land. But pigs would fly first, so she was assigning him with more challenging essays, and had asked Yuri if he had any interest in becoming a teacher himself and joining the school. It had taken a little while for Yuri to realise she was completely serious, to be flattered by the proposal, and was genuinely considering it; he was already helping her teach ballet to some of the younger children in the town, had become the go-to for all students who needed extra assistance. In addition, he had a part time job at the bookshop he'd been frequenting for nearly a dozen years, the owner now too old to reach many of the shelves, and struggling with balancing the shop with his other services; he kept the accounts of many of the businesses in town, and was teaching Yuri the sums involved, simply because the young boy had been curious one day. A couple of hours after school everyday, and all day on Saturday to help replenish the shelves and file, and then Yuri had all of Sunday on the ice.

None of that mattered in the long run.

"Should we tell him...?" Leo asked his comrades quietly, uncertain. "Should we tell him who he really is?"

Both Guang Hong and Phichit remained silent. They didn't know.

There was still just under six years before the Wizard of Popovich's curse ran out. The bamboo's protection was still holding strong, but... what would happen when Yuri turned twenty-one? Would it still hold? Was Georgi so powerful that demons would still manage to -

Phichit shivered. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about what might come after his little Yuri, and what they might do to him.

"I don't think we can," he finally said, feeling defeated. "This is still the safest place for him... if we told Yuri who he really is, he would want to return to the capital, where we wouldn't be able to protect him. We need him to stay put, in the protection of the bamboo."

"How though...?" Guang Hong wondered aloud. "He's a clever boy, he... he deserves more that some tiny life in the sticks of nowhere. To do what? To be what? In six years Yuri will be the heir to the Katsuki clan. Is he to prepare for that by being a dance instructor? A bookshop worker?"

Phichit frowned. "Why not?" He glared at his friend. "Don't be such a snob, Guang Hong."

Guang Hong frowned back. "I'm not being a snob, I'm just trying to... to..." He sighed, feeling defeated as well. "I'm just trying to work it out too. Yuri's growing up, he won't want to live with us in the woods forever and we can't... it's not practical to force him to stay  _and_ lie about why."

The three fairies fell to silence.

When they had set out on this endeavour they'd been so naive. They had a baby to look after, thinking that would be a simple task alone, and then... then it all got a lot more complicated almost immediately.

Yuri filled their lives with light. They all loved the boy more than they had ever imagined and anticipated. More than anything in their long, long existences they wanted Yuri to live, to survive Georgi's cruel curse. More than anything they wanted his nightmares to end entirely - they were becoming less frequent; the last must have been nearly a year ago, the longest gap yet - and for Yuri to have confidence in himself. They wanted him to be  _happy_... they wanted him to have a life that was good, that was befitting of him, that he deserved. Not some life of nothing that came to nothing.

They didn't know what to do -

There was a knock at the door.

The three fairies blinked. Eh? Slowly, they all looked up at each other, frowning. Absolutely  _no_ _one_ had any business knocking on their door unexpectedly. Yuri could come and go as he pleased, and other mortals never strayed this deep into the wood, naturally repelled by the befuddling nature of the bamboo. The Katsuki's were not expected, nor could they find their way to the cottage without the fairies assisting them from the border either. So... who...

They all stood, wary. Guang Hong turned to Leo, nodded his head toward the door in signal. The fairy nodded in return and slowly approached. He peered out of the small glass window, and saw nothing. He looked back at his comrades, shrugging slightly to silently convey -

Knock-knock.

Phichit nodded to Leo, a signal too. One. Two. Three -

Leo opened the door, and almost shrieked as a bird flew at him through the gap, straight over his head, and landed on the table.

No one moved. The three fairies stared in horror at the bird.

The Red Raven cocked her head, and squawked.

 _Chaos_.

* * *

To be continued...


	7. 13

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

_13_

* * *

When Victor was very, very young, before he could possibly remember, his mother asked for a soothsayer to come to the palace and tell them his fortune. Lord Yakov had accommodated; he didn't believe in such things himself, but he knew that it meant something to his wife, and he saw no harm in it. A seer was summoned.

The woman who came was not what he had expected; glossy, volumous white hair, weathered lips, body bent and beaten by time. The seer had stared down into Victor's cot, unmoved by the toddler's happy babbling. An energetic child, already two years old and rarely without a smile on his face, he was instantly adored by everyone who cast eyes on him. His initial blond hair that he'd been born with had fallen out a long time ago, and been replaced with hair even lighter, silvery, like his mother's. Coupled with eyes of shocking blue intensity, he was almost unnaturally cherubic. Lord Yakov was shocked at how much he adored him, of how proud he was that he - Yakov had never been a striking man, at best handsome in his early youth before his hair started falling out - had created this bundle of shimmering beauty.

He was glad that Victor never met his grandfather. A bitter, calculating man, he would not have appreciated the wonderful fact that when Victor smiled, his mouth was heart-shaped. The child's beauty would have been an asset, worse even a threat. No, Yakov did not miss his predecessor, and nor did his wife.

"Hmm..." The seer peered down at Victor, the child momentarily quiet and curious. The tiny boy looked up at his father, to check that all was well, and when Lord Yakov gave him a small smile and a nod, he beamed and clapped his chubby hands together. The seer flinched, and Victor looked up at her, wide-eyed and concerned, but too stunned to make a sound. Then, as Victor's lip began to wobble for fear, for not understanding what was happening, the seer smiled, and told Lady Feltsman that Victor's future was as bright as his smile, not that it was on display in that moment, that he make her exceptionally proud. That he would grow to be a beautiful man, through and through. Overjoyed, Victor's mother took her baby boy to calm and play, and the seer turned to Lord Yakov -

"The day he makes you proudest, will be the day that he disappoints you the most."

Lord Yakov flinched back, stunned, but before he could so much as frown, let alone demand an explanation for these cold words, the seer had vanished.

He never forgot it, even as he spent years telling himself that he didn't believe in such superstitions. Then again, a year later his good friend had his own son both gifted and cursed by magic too, and had had to send his newborn into hiding, and would spend over two decades grieving for him. Yakov had been furious... how dare their lives be meddled with like this? And then when he despatched his soldiers to try and find creatures that might cause Toshiya's son such harm, nothing had come of it. Lord Toshiya lost his boy, who he'd been so looking forward to being a father to. Were it not for the Three Grand Prix Fairies, and the stark contrast of their intentions for Lord Katsuki Yuri, Lord Yakov was minded to root out all this nonsense, and be done with it, but... 

Lord Toshiya had been uncommonly wise when Yakov had suggested it; _don't meddle in that which is far beyond you._

The seer knew about this wisdom, knew it before it was spoken. She knew that Lord Yakov had heeded this sound advice, that he always would heed these wise words. She knew this from the beginning, before she ever set eyes on Lord Victor, Lord Yakov's heir, who would one day inherit control of the Feltsman clan. She still knew it when she saw his future, saw that he would never pose any true threat to her or her kin. It made no difference.

"You shouldn't meddle either."

On a road that led to Anywhere, having walked a long while from Somewhere to get to Nowhere, the old seer stopped to regard the Red Raven across her path. "Is that so..."

Mila materialised at her side, her red hair curling freely down one side of her head, shorn short underneath, sapphire eyes cutting and catching. "What are you doing, Anya, messing around with the goings-on of the clans? Since when did that hold any interest for you?"

Anya, a sorceress of untold power, straightened her back, body returning to its voluptuous curves, lips plumping with red, and the deep brown pushing out the false white. Jewels glittered at her ears, her throat, upon her fingers and her wrists; the trophies of many a foolish creature that thought her affection could be bought like one seeks the attention of a magpie. Beauty, for this woman, was a weapon, but it was not one she could use on the Red Raven.

Though she would have to be truly foolish to  _need_ a weapon against Mila.

"It still doesn't," Anya asked truthfully.

Mila narrowed her eyes at her. That was not an answer, but there was a warning in the sorceress' eye.  _Don't meddle either_.

To say that these two women were friends would not be accurate. Civil... yes. Held common interests, surely. Liked each other? Definitely not. But they both kept up the pretence... for Georgi. Well, Anya pretended, badly. Mila never bothered; she'd made it plain to the Wizard of Popovich, centuries ago, that she thought that Anya was no good for him, and indeed that Georgi was no good for Anya either. But she also made it plain that she wouldn't waste her energies trying to persuade either, that she didn't particularly care one way or another if they did exactly as she predicted, and tore each other apart, and that when they inevitably did... Georgi could always rely on Mila to be there for him anyway, and not just with an 'I told you so'.

And she always had... with one exception. But on the road in the Nether, that exception had yet to come to pass. But it was coming, soon, and Mila never saw it coming.

A few months later after Lord Victor had his fortune told, Anya broke up with Georgi yet again, but this time... somehow this time she cut him deeper than she had before. Mila did as she always did, and returned to the Wizard of Popovich's side, and listened with boredom to the wizard's wailings. But Georgi kept to himself what was different this time. And something dark grew.

But after a while... he said nothing, twisting in grief, and as the clans began celebrating new life, the birth of Lord Katsuki Yuri to his loving parents, Toshiya and Hiroko, something... something switched in Georgi. Something terrible curdled in his heart...

... And before she could even think that she ought to stop him, having expected Georgi to do little more than just create a scene and throw a tantrum and then ultimately accept Lord Toshiya's famous hospitality, Mila watched as her friend did the worst thing she'd ever seen him do... and condemned an innocent to a short, cruel life he had done nothing to deserve.

Mila and Georgi did like a spot of mischief, liked a decent brawl against equally moral-free trouble-makers, but... they were not  _bad_. They were certainly not evil. But virtues were for the boring.

This however...

As Georgi transported them away to his home in the Nether mountains, far out of the reach of mortals, the Red Raven flew immediately from his shoulder, uncomfortable even to perch on him, to lean on him. Before she even knew what she was doing she was turning, changing, and berating him immediately. "What the  _hell_ was that about?!"

It took less than a year to decide to abandon her friend's side. It took a while for him to admit the true reason why... and when he did, she couldn't look at him.

And so Mila left the Nether, and went in search for...

She didn't actually know what or who she went in search for, her red wings carrying her away on the wind. She knew that if she crossed paths with Georgi or Anya again any time soon, it would end in a fight, and between the three of them... the odds were tight. Well, perhaps not so much against Georgi - foolish Wizard. He ought to know that he was no match for the Red Raven or the sorceress Anya, but always seemed to think that they relied on _him_ \- but against Anya... hmm. That would be quite a match. Were Mila a fool, she would go looking for a fight like that, a true challenge. She was smarter than that however, by quite some distance.

The Red Raven found Lord Katsuki Yuri more by his absence than his presence; the clever bamboo trees  _liked_ the boy, was  _protective_ of him even. The wood threatened to burn and incinerate her when she came near, and it took a while for the stalks to determine that, whilst she was there for entirely selfish reasons, they were not evil ones. And so, she found the frozen lake, found a little boy discovering a passion that would hold for years and years, and caught glimpses of his thoroughly useless guardians.

She did not however find purpose. So she waited whilst she decided what she was there for.

The Red Raven herself owed Lord Katsuki nothing. If anyone owed him anything, it was the Wizard of Popovich, but Mila already knew that there was no undoing his folly. Perhaps she had come to watch it all unfold, to see Georgi's handiwork... no. No, that wasn't right...

She didn't know. She still didn't know...

Until Lord Victor crashed through the trees with the gigantic Makkachin. And he brought with him memories... memories that... it didn't make sense. Lord Victor Feltsman was not the one who was cursed... or was he? She helped the dog take his master home, and silently wished the young lord good luck before spreading her wings.

Despite the black feathers under the red of her wings, Mila was not lacking in a moral compass; she merely found the 'good' to be typically very tedious. No... Mila enjoyed calamitous punishment; she enjoyed people reaping what they sowed. She had helped mortals exact their revenge, only to punish them after for thinking they understood justice; how many wars had she fought with over the insults of the old kings and claimed their foolish egos as their prize as they learnt the price of their pride. She lived for the taste of pride beaten into conquest.

So, first things first.

It was easy to locate the stable boy. The foolish young man - his name was Jules - hadn't left. She found him in the servants' quarters, rather than... well, running away. _The bastard thought he could get away with it_...

The Red Raven waited until nightfall... and then she blasted the window open, picked the man up by his ankle and threw him out. She let him fall... and then swooped him up with her claws, and dangled him from the rooftop of the palace.

The answer she was after needed no spoken questions. All she needed to do was look into his mind...

_Want. Want. Want._

She had half expected to find a cruel marionette. She was even more disgusted to find that it was just a man, would have been disgusted with the puppeteer if she had found strings.

She let him go, and he fell again.

White hot fury. Mila didn't remember the last time she had been so angry, so disgusted by a human being. Not because human beings aren't, far too often, thoroughly despicable to each other, but... she was very old. She had seen it all before. She had become... acclimatised to it. It was not as if her kind were any better, as though she could call herself a true moral authority. No... it was shocking _that she cared_. She didn't remember the last time she had cared about lives that are over so quickly.

She had watched Lord Victor too, and Lord Christophe, and Lord Yuri Feltsman, and so many of them. Little Lord Yura amused her, she supposed she would not like ill things to happen to him, but only because she expected him to entertain her with his tantrums for a while to come. But Lord Victor of the Feltsman clan... was bright, generous, and whilst he was a little naive, which made him insensitive at times, but... he wouldn't harm a fly. He most certainly would never do what was done to him. He didn't deserve this.

And he didn't deserve to be robbed of a chance of vengeance. It was not her vendetta. She swept out her hand and the maggot of a man jerked to a stop a foot above the ground. She jumped down, approached the pitiful human warily.

He was crying. This meant nothing to her. He had made Victor cry...

Mila let the maggot drop the remaining foot, watched him scramble away, begging for his life. _Very well. You may have your life. You might not like it, however_. She lifted her hand again, and smirked. As curses went, this would be a favourite of hers. She left him a mess of snot and tears and piss and fear, and decided he would never waste a second of her time again. If Victor wished to exact further punishment, he would not be difficult to find, but he would not be returning to work at the palace either. The young Lord did not need to be haunted by this maggot's presence every day, and if he wanted to never see him again, it would be more than easy; their paths never need cross again.

With that sorted, the Red Raven spread her wings, and flew. Flew into the gap between Here and Not There. It was time to return home.

The Wizard of Popovich lived in a castle atop a mountain that never saw day. It was why his skin was so pasty, and why Mila was glad to have frequent excursions, even though her own fair skin had to be covered with feathers, as sunblock had not been invented yet. Here light came not from the Sun or Moon or Stars, but from the remnants of Black Hole leftovers, and torches glowed green in the confusion. Georgi's interior decor left much to be desired, but so did his choice of minions, the ugly porcine features always making Mila pull a face. He really needed to get some eye candy for her.

But in the nights after Lord Victor suddenly appeared in the bamboo grove, disrupting the quiet and simple and  _secret_ life of Lord Katsuki Yuri, Mila had no time for humour.

The minions were not about when she arrived in the foresaken courtyard. Long ago, Georgi had been banished to this place by powers far greater than either of them combined, for fooleries that they both thought were funny at the time but... well... the times changed. Such butchery was no longer so entertaining, and even then they should have reserved it for yokai...

The place was quiet. Typically that meant that they were both here. Anya found Georgi's minions offensive to her eyes. In fairness so did Mila, but she didn't think to use them as target practice. Unless they really annoyed her. Admittedly a frequent occurrence, but still. They simply weren't worth the effort; they couldn't fight back even if they tried. Mila liked fairer fights.

Which was good.

Her clawed feet elongated to boots, legs stretched and paled. Red and black feathers melted into a dress, the colour the same. And her sapphire eyes remained the same colour but grew bigger, resetting themselves into her head as she shook her red hair out, long elegant fingers scratching familiarly at the undercut beneath the short curls. In this barren, abandoned wreck of a castle, once a battleground that had been lost over and still held the scars, Mila was the most beautiful creature to grace the halls.

Or so she would tell you. Better to agree with her. For her only competitor...

"Mila!"

Anya, the Great Sorceress of Rostelecom, smirked at Mila's coming. Seated in a desecrated throne, once a majesty of stonework that was now crumbling away, the witch was waiting for the Raven. Of course she was. "How wonderful to see you!"

"Where's Georgi?" Mila asked, cutting through the pleasantries. There was really no point in pretending that it was likewise, or even that Anya was being truthful.

"Anya! My love! Wh -"

Whatever the Great Wizard Georgi of Popovich had meant to say to his 'love' died on his lips at the sight of his friend. Mila couldn't help it; she smiled.

He still looked ridiculous. His hair was still styled into a tall point, he still had shadowing around his eyes, still pale as death, still tall and slight, all skinny limbs that made him look more fragile than he truly was. He had on the most ridiculous clothing - was that a bird stuck on his cloak?! - and... and he was her friend and she had missed him. She had missed what an idiot he was. She had missed his companionship. "Georgi."

"Mila..." The wizard, carrying a bowl of grapes - undoubtedly stolen from the mortal world - rushed to a nearby table, dumped the fruit on it and approached. A smile transformed his face as he reached out, offering an embrace. "You're... you're home!"

And, because she could never deny him really, Mila stepped into his hug and smiled unseen over his shoulder. "I... I am."

"It's wonderful to see you!" Unlike Anya, he meant it. He stepped back, swept his eyes over his long-comrade. "You look well, my friend! How are you? I..." Whatever he was going to say died again, but this time Mila could guess. He had thought he would not see her again, that she would not return. "What have you been doing all this time?"

She smiled. "Oh, you know. Roaming. Trouble is not difficult to find and stir." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Georgi, I'm sorry, but I am not here for a reunion. I have business."

He blinked, took a step back, shocked. "Business?"

"Yes." And Mila turned her full attention to Anya, whose smile was even more false for witnessing the rekindling of friendship. "Anya. I believe you have answers for me."

The sorceress cocked an eyebrow. "Do I indeed... what answers do you seek?"

A beat.

The torches flickered. Anya smirked,  _cheating_.

In a flash of lightening, Mila swept out her arm, and the throne beneath Anya exploded with the force. The sorceress raised an arm to deflect, but with a scream Mila's spell grasped her. She gripped at unseen claws at her throat, eyes wild with fear and fury.

"Mila! What are you - stop!" Georgi exclaimed. Mila ignored him, until he made to step forward toward her and she threw up another arm, freezing him into place painlessly. The hand that held him in place was graceful, gentle even... the hand that held Anya aloft was crooked, like Mila's fingers were talons.

She had tolerated this bitch long enough. " _Is this your doing?_ "

Slowly, a black light formed out of her clawed hand, and then burst into...

_Hey. Come here._

Georgi frowned, looked to Mila as the vision projected before them. "Mila, what -"

" _Watch_."

He flinched at her tone, and then did as she ordered. Anya's knuckles turned white against the invisible hold.

 _Shit, we'll get caught, there's no time... fuck, you're tight, there's no time... fuck, what the... wait... shit, are you alright...?_ Shit _, I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't... I'm sorry, look, I'm sorry, I... oh fuck..._

A creature unworthy of the title 'man' ran away, and a young lord whimpered for fear of more pain to come, and the projection faded.

Mila released her hold on them both, and Georgi stumbled, looking green, _horrified_. Anya fell to the floor unaided, scrambled over the rubble of the throne on all fours, almost hissing with anger for being one-upped like that. Mila glared at her, uncaring, magnificent in her righteousness. "Was  _that_ your doing?"

Anya tilted her head up, curling her lips around a cursive, but Mila raised her arm again, and the threats were strangled. "You  _will_ tell me, Anya..."

Georgi wobbled away, and puked in the corner. Neither woman paid much heed. Anya hissed out what words she could, in the old tongue of the yokai, her eyes widening as every word cost her breath.

 _Fool_ , Mila thought. _For so long you have underestimated me, both of you. You were both happy, at different times, for me to share havoc with you at your sides... you should not have underestimated me. I am a Raven. It is I who will negotiate with Death for you when your time comes._

_And you will tell me the truth._

Anya's face started to turn purple.

"Anya...?" Georgi pulled himself together, finally catching up on what Mila was really accusing Anya of.

"You once told Lord Yakov that his son would one day make him proudest when he disappointed him the most," Mila recalled aloud, almost conversationally, were it not for the death grip she had on the sorceress. "I call  _bullshit_... what have you been doing, Anya?" The sorceress began to whimper, unable to even beg. "Tell me if this was your doing." Still nothing. "TELL ME!"

"YO!"

Georgi started, Mila's eyes widened. She narrowed her eyes at the pitiful woman and let go. Anya collapsed again, clutching her throat, heaving for breath. "'Yo'? As in... yes and no?" The corner of Mila's lips twitched upward cruelly. "Oh Anya... I think you're going to have to explain that." She twitched her fingers threatening, and Anya flinched. "Very well. Explain how 'no'."

Anya growled at her. Mila chuckled. "Remember... I _can_ just get your secrets out of your corpse. I'm not like the humans who actually require you to talk. So you can live or die, but you will be telling me what I want to know." Her fingers stiffened again and Anya froze into place, crying out with frustration. Not fast enough, dear, you were never fast enough. "So start talking."

Anya glared at her, helpless. "You'll pay for this, bitch..."

Mila rolled her eyes. "Undoubtedly. Not important. Talk." She flicked up her arm, and Anya's body was hoisted into the air, as though held by the front of her dress, and Anya's feet scrambled for purchase on the ground, out of reach. "TALK!"

"It's true!"

Georgi stepped forward to his friend, but Mila stilled him with a glare - _do not interfere_ \- and then returned her attention to the sorceress. "The future you gave Lord Victor?" She scoffed. "What kind of fool do you -"

"It is!" Anya struggled unsuccessfully against the hold. "I swear!"

"Hmm." Mila narrowed her eyes. She didn't care much for fortunes... she found that more often than not, they were self-fulfilling... or the teller went out of their way to ensure it. "How?"

Anya closed her eyes, and Mila frowned, this time curiously. The witch looked... ashamed. "He's going to... to..." Anya's fists clenched, reluctant to tell. Mila's fingers twitched, and the words fell out of Anya's mouth against her will. "He's going to fall in love!"

Silence. Georgi stared, confused. Useless wizard...

Mila started laughing. "That's all?" Anya's jaw clenched, catching Mila's attention. Hmm... interesting. "Who with?" Anya grimaced, but then Mila smirked. "Oh. I know who. Don't bother with that one. I get it now." The smirk slowly dissipated from her face. "That does not explain how...  _this_... happened to Lord Victor. So what's the 'yes'?" Her fingers tightened again, and Anya looked genuinely afraid for her life. "Did you make that happen?" The expression on the sorceress' face, the reluctance to speak, told her enough. "...  _How_...  _why..._ "

The sorceress snorted, clenched her jaw, and finally started fighting back in earnest. Power built, making Mila's hand tremble against it, and then Anya tumbled out of the hold, landing awkwardly on her feet amongst the rubble, but ready. Anya laughed in triumph, and spat in Mila's direction. "Foolish girl... you may think that I have been underestimating you all this time, and maybe I have, but you shouldn't have done the same..." Mila didn't so much as flinch. Curious.

"You really want to know everything?" Anya spat out madly. "Well, here you go. You can clean up the mess after." Anya's eyes slid to Georgi... and she smirked. "I saw that Lord Victor would fall in love... would be loved in return... like nothing I had ever seen. Their love will be like the love of immortals... knowing, absolute, unflinching... empowering even." The smirk curdled... to jealousy. "I won't allow it." She narrowed her eyes at Mila. "I won't allow some  _boy_ to have such a gift, when... when I am stuck with nothing that can compare."

Any colour that Georgi had drained out of his face. "Wha..."

"I am over a millennia old, Raven, and all I have to show for it is this ridiculous wizard... who thinks that I need  _saving_ , who thinks that I need  _caring_ for as though I couldn't care for myself, who does nothing but smother, and cling, and _suffocate_. If I cannot have the love that those two mere mortals will have, then they won't have it either."

Silence. Georgi had no words... Mila blinked, unwavering, and then...

She stepped closer, straight through Anya's guards... and struck her across her face. Claws sliced through tender skin, and Anya fell to the floor again, clutching her ruined cheek, her hand trembling as blood poured into her palm. But before she could think to retaliate, Mila bodily grabbed her and snarled into her face. "Here is my curse to you, abomination. May you look as ugly as your soul for eternity."

Anya's eyes widened as she felt magic creep over her skin, fought against it and cried out as Mila's righteousness flowed over her unrelenting. Then she laughed madly. "Do you know how easy it was to pull off?" She leaned forward, into Mila's face, and whispered. "All I had to do was tell Georgi I didn't love him anymore because he could never make me a mother to a son like Lord Toshiya had for Lady Hiroko... once I left, Georgi did all my dirty work for me. Lord Victor may find his love... but he will not get to enjoy it for long. Eight years to go now, right? And that boy has to grow up first... Tick. Tock. Tick.  _Tock -_ "

Mila's face transformed with fury, but Anya matched, and the room exploded with conflicting force, the two women thrown from each other. Anya struck out with fierce lightning, parried by a shield of black metal feathers, countered by striking ice. Mila took to her Raven form, her wings giant shadows, sweeping through the room to strike the sorceress down.  _Enough_. No more mercy. No more pretending of alliances or friendship. Mila called out for Death to honour an appointment -

Anya roared, and transformed into a Black Dragon, one of the cruel creatures of old long banished to the Dark, and Mila descended to the ground, reshaped. Feathers aligned and smoothed to a blade, the hilt solid in her grasp... ahh, it had been a long time she'd given the sword exercise. It hummed in excitement, and -

Georgi stepped forward. Mila paused.

The dragon hissed with amusement. " _Finally have something to say, darling?_ "

The wizard looked up at her, at the long snout of her head, the plumes of smoke issuing from her nostrils, the sharp teeth in her grinning mouth. Tears streamed down his face unapologetically. "Yes." A forked tongue slithered, waiting, a fiery breath waiting. "I'm sorry that we were never right for each other, and for wasting so much of our time together. We're finally done now." The sorceress' grin flickered, claws flinched in the broken slabs of the stone floor. "Now get out of my castle."

Mila lowered her sword... proud. The dragon stared, and then snarled. " _Look at you, finally showing some backbone -_ "

"GET. OUT!"

The wall behind the dragon exploded, and the wind swept in, gathering the beast up. Anya scrambled for purchase, refusing to be forbidden, and she screamed as the floor crumbled beneath her, and she tumbled down the mountain. From the top, neither Georgi or Mila moved as they watched her finally find her feet and push off, flapped her giant wings, and did as she was ordered, and left, becoming nothing more than a shadow in the eternal night sky.

Georgi sniffed. Mila put away her sword, ruffled her remaining feathers and returned to her normal human form. She waited... she did not have to wait long.

Georgi collapsed to his knees, sobbing, and she rushed to his side to support her friend.

As far as break-ups went, that one was particularly bad.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I'll be taking a couple of weeks hiatus. There have been some developments in my Real Life, so I'm afraid I need to focus. Plus I need to prepare a head start for the rest of this story; it's more or less coming together in my head now, but needs drafting properly.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the story so far! Comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks all make my day and spur me on! x


	8. XIV-XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all those who wrote comments of support! It meant an enormous amount. Being able to work on this when I could has helped me keep my sanity; it's been an awful few weeks without writing this.
> 
> Next chapter won't be for at least another couple of weeks, I'm afraid. My real life is still in major upheaval, so please keep wishing me luck! I'm almost qualified as a English-as-a-Foreign-Language Teacher, and once I have my qualification I'll be job hunting immediately for a post in Asia, to start by the end of the summer... which isn't that long away... shimatta.
> 
> When things stabilise I'm going to keep to Wednesday's as a usual posting date, the routine was quite nice before. But at the moment there's no backlog, so going to need to build it all back up again. In other news... I've finally figured out EXACTLY how these two meet again, I had about five different ideas at one point and none of them were great. Oooh I'm so looking forward to drafting it :-D
> 
> Feel like I should point this out... the timelines are not in alignment at the moment, to save some confusion. The first section happens when Yuri is just 16 (so Victor would be 19, so past the point that his section is in), and Victor is still 16 about to turn 17 in his. In the coming chapters their timelines start to will realign, towards... ;-)
> 
> Picks up immediately from the cliffhanger in XII, which was actually two chapters ago.
> 
> This one's... long. It was a long time away.
> 
> God, it's good to be back... :-)

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Chaos.

In a split second, Guang Hong Ji roared into the form of a Dragon of Xin - a very different creature from what the sorceress Anya could turn into; vermillion, lithe and long... vicious.

Simultaneously Leo de la Iglesia blazed into an Eagle of Fire, flames licking off enormous wings, so large his shoulders hunched against the ceiling.

The Red Raven rolled her eyes...

_Pandemonium._

Shadows chased inferno, sharp teeth snapped at a beak, a booted foot kicked a squawk out of the eagle and a punch floored the dragon with a whimper. Mila panted in the afters, sweat at her brow from the fires subdued, adrenaline pumping hard, fingers only just assembled from wispy feathers.

In a single second, the dragon and eagle had nearly killed her ten times.

 _Phoo that was fun though_... She put a foot over the snout of the dragon to keep it down, even as it snapped under her, its serpentine body writhing to escape, its long tail whipping furniture across the kitchen and making a mess of the counters and cupboards. She held the eagle by the beak against the table with shadowy chains, its wings thrashing... but she was missing one.

Phichit Chulanont tugged uselessly at the door that she had sealed shut upon her entrance. Mila sneered in disgust. "I didn't think the Fairy of Siam was such a coward that he would try to run -"

 _CRACK_. Phichit flicked his head to glare at her, his eyes pure gold, and her own widened foolishly the split second before she was thrown bodily across the room. She hit the wall so hard it cracked behind her, the stone threatening to give and let her through, and when Mila grabbed at consciousness she found herself pinned up, high above the floor. The Fairy of Siam approached, the gold in his eyes advancing across his face, a dozen gold swords slicing out of the magic summoned at his palms.

"Where is Yuri?" His voice was surprisingly even.

Mila genuinely tried to answer, but could do nothing but groan as her lungs had to resettle -

" _WHERE IS HE?!_ "

If Mila had screamed, her appointment with Death would have been brought forward. Wisely, as the swords hurtled towards her, their aim true and meaning business, she shrieked instead; "THE ICE!"

The swords paused. One an inch from her nose. Mila went cross-eyed checking her words carefully. "He... he's safe, he's fine, he's... Yuri's fine... He's skating, exactly as you last saw him."

The sword at her nose quivered for a moment, and then dropped, the point digging into the floor boards. Mila however remained pinned up on the wall, and the rest of the blades remained hovering in front of her, waiting for execution.

Phichit stepped all the way forward, his body entirely armoured in gold, and he gripped the hilt of the fallen sword, staring up at her. His lips were sealed, but behind him his comrades got to their feet, growling loudly. There were no questions; Mila knew what they were, and volunteered the answers.

"I... I have not risked my life coming here to harm Lord Katsuki Yuri. I come to... I come to aid you in preventing harm coming to him. I am here under my own volition; I represent no one but myself." She took a deep breathe, kept going. "Lord Yuri is outside, on the ice, practicing figures, and I have no intention of disturbing him, nor do I bring anyone with me that will."

She made no threats. Stated no insurances on her life. Georgi didn't know that she was there, didn't know anything. He hadn't asked; she hadn't said. She frowned; should she say that to the Grand Prix Fairies too? It had been a terrible introduction after all.

"Please, I... I do not come for mischief, nor as a harbinger," she said, making eye contact with the golden guardian staring up at her, unmoved. "I come to help..."

Phichit blinked, gold flecks falling off of his eyelashes, and with a metallic creak he turned to his comrades. The eagle gave a cry, and then began to contract, claws turning to feet as Leo walked to the door, sending a flame to the lock to remove Mila's seal, and left the cottage. Less than a minute later he came back, and nodded to the others. "Yuri's still skating."

The dragon didn't move, other than to swallow the flames in its mouth. Phichit however visibly deflated with relief, and the gold started flaking off his body, his clothes melting back to cotton and silk. The swords that had still been hovering in the air waiting for his command slowly crumbled away, their dust falling toward the sword that remained in Phichit's hand, blades reuniting. The fairy took a deep breath, and took a few tentative steps, shaking with adrenaline. Ignoring Mila for a moment, he took in the mess that was the kitchen. "Guang Hong... you're better at this than we are."

The dragon grumbled, but then closed its eyes, concentrating, serene. He didn't revert back to his humanoid form, into the tiny boy that everyone underestimated, but slowly all of the furniture moved at his command; chairs stood back up and assembled round the table, broken vases swept themselves up towards a helping broom, charms untangled themselves at the windows and cupboards closed once their contents were organised again. The dragon opened its eyes, the colour of the irises browner than the yellow that they had been, and it slithered up on to one of the counters, shrinking to fit, lending a flame to Leo as he put the kettle on in the kitchen fireplace.

Phichit glanced at one of the chairs at the table and gave it a nod. It hopped out, across the room and settled beneath Mila. She stared down at it. She had a bizarre feeling it was waiting for her to -

She fell from the wall, and unhelpfully the chair slid out so she missed it as she hit the floor unceremoniously. Groaning, Mila reluctantly took her cue, and sat, and clung to the frame as it scrapped back across the stone floor to the table, braking so suddenly at the edge that she had to throw her arms out to stop her head from the hitting the table.

Then, with hospitality she knew she didn't deserve, a cup of tea was placed before her. Mila looked up at the three fairies that were all watching her with distrust, and thought...

She had been a fool. All this time she had been scoffing at their efforts in raising Lord Yuri, underestimating their abilities. She was _lucky_ to be alive still, and would be lucky still if she left this place at all. She should have paid better respect when she came here, had had some idea that she could waltz in and tell them what was what. She should have remembered how powerful they were, that any one of them could take her, and that facing all three was beyond her. She was only alive right now because  _damn it she wasn't done yet_. Her appointment with Death was not due yet.

"I think you have a lot of explaining to do," Leo said.

The dragon hissed from the counter in agreement. Phichit said nothing, waiting. She swallowed as she saw the unspoken threat in his face; that he would see through any lies, would see through half-truths, would offer no mercy. They too could pluck truth from the dead.

Mila told them everything. She had no regrets about doing so.

And when she was done, a plan was formed.

* * *

XIV

* * *

He should never have hesitated. Either that, or he should never have come.

It was... frustrating.

The summer that Lord Victor was still sixteen, and Lord Christophe turned fifteen, they reunited very different people. Christophe hadn't been sure, choosing to spend the summer with his parents in the lakes, but it had been a beautiful summer for him. He still barely got on with his mother and father, but at best he only had to tolerate their lack of interest at breakfast and dinner, meals that he did not dawdle over. He had to mind his manners however, to make sure he could never be criticised for rushing to leave the table, like he was four years old still.

But there had been Masumi, the envoy's son from Lord Toshiya...

They were the same age, of same wit, of same mind of the Turicum court - that it was a _bore_ \- and... the two boys shared their first kisses in a dark hallway, hiding from a tedious ball, and by the time that Christophe left Turicum, he was annoyed that he was too nervous to ask for anything more than kisses. Too nervous to  _give_ anything more than kisses either.

"May I write to you?" is what Christophe did ask for, his grip on Masumi's hand tighter than he had intended.

His summer affair widened his eyes briefly, and then cooled. "I'm not sure I would want to see your fantasies committed to paper," he teased.

Christophe, used to this, smirked to hide a blush. "Only committed _to_ you then...?"

Masumi flinched and glared at him, stuck for a retort beyond _do not tempt me_. He... he hoped that between himself and the young lord (that he ought not to have anything to do with) they never meant half of what they said, and that Christophe understood that... but Masumi was in no position to hope at all. One day he would probably be the Katsuki clan's ambassador to the Giacometti's, like his father, and one day Masumi would have to  _serve_  Lord Christophe. He dared not hope for letters or nice words or promises, or even the kisses they stole when they could. He dared not smile when he knew that he would never get to smile forever, and even at fifteen he suspected that not smiling one day would hurt far more.

But he dared not stop either. It was too damn late anyway. He would always hope.

Christophe did understand. And he wrote anyway, from his very first day in the Great Palace at Piter, and mostly kept his fantasies to himself for when he was alone and could remember Masumi's lips upon his own, and the smiles that graced those lips whenever they saw each other. He thought of Masumi often, not only within the confines of his guest room, but also when he watched Victor.

Masumi was not pretty like Victor. He was relatively ordinary looking, with his brown hair and brown eyes, tall from early growth spurts. But he was easy to look at, easy to enjoy looking at, easy to wink at and tease and reach for. Easy to give to. Masumi had, through very little effort, banished Victor to the pedestal Christophe had placed his friend upon, and invited him to stop looking up all the time, to find level with someone who wanted him back. Christophe was almost ashamed to admit how easy it had been to forget his buried resentment of Victor for never reciprocating his feelings, for never even noticing them, and how easy it was to be consumed by Masumi's glances, his scoffs, his solidity.

When the time came that he could no longer delay moving to Piter, spurred by a letter from Lord Yakov that his parents insisted he honour, and both Lord and Lady Giacometti clearly without a clue of how to communicate with their son in any case, Christophe found himself surprised to be reluctant to go. He was wary of finding that maybe he hadn't moved on from his years-long crush after all.

But then he arrived... and was shocked.

First, the most obvious. "Why did you cut your hair...?"

A scoff from Lord Yuri - far from the baby whose christening he had once attended, but now a seven-year old boy who was more likely to kick someone than wave to them - stopped Christophe from noticing Victor's flinch. "At least he doesn't look like a _girl_ now."

"Yura..." His mother warned. The young boy grumbled, but obediently said nothing more.

Christophe frowned across the dinner table. His friend hadn't said a word, not in answer to his question or even to retaliate against his half-brother. Victor then slowly raised his head from the food that he was playing with, and -

Christophe felt sick. He'd seen that smile before. Teachers got it. Classmates got it. Courtiers got it. Not  _him_. _Christophe_ didn't get Victor's fake smiles.

"I fancied a change. Why, do I not look handsome still?"

Christophe was still so sickened that even Victor faltered, and said nothing, awkwardly, and returned to pushing his food around his plate.

That... was one thing. Christophe hid himself in his room, poured his thoughts into his letters to the point where his quill dropped and he was almost talking aloud, as though Masumi were right there with him. Then he scrunched the paper up and never sent it. How crass it would have been to write to his new lover about someone he had desired before them, had desired first? He wouldn't want to receive such letters from Masumi, no doubt it was mutual.

By the time Christophe managed to fall asleep that first night, in a bedroom that was unfamiliar and resigned to sleeping in it for at least a couple of years, he hoped that it was merely from the time spent apart that there was now distance between him and his best friend. He resolved to do his best to go back to how things were before, albeit without a crush.

Nothing worked. Not even trying to bond with Victor's new dog helped (Christophe preferred cats. He didn't mind Makkachin, except when the dog sniffed his crotch; at least cats kept their tongues to themselves). Christophe soon found himself having to get used to being unable to dodge his tutor, a surprisingly spry old man that Christophe couldn't help but respect, for being far more savvy than any of the teachers they had left behind in at  _Le Turicum École._

Now that his formal education was over, Victor's time was dedicated to learning more practical things; the complexities of relations between all the clans, the geography of the Feltsman territory, etiquette; so many different things that Victor needed to become an expert in so that, one day, he would fill his father's shoes. Christophe could see that Victor was very obviously overwhelmed by it all, so much so that he could barely recount any of it. It wasn't for lack of remembering, but because Victor just didn't want to further exhaust himself explaining it all to Christophe during the few evenings when they got to enjoy each other's company.

And if Victor wasn't with his father's advisers learning such subjects, he was... busy.

At  _Le École_ , the two boys had, with all their other peers, had instruction in the tradition of fencing. With two years separating them, the two never got to learn and practice together, but Christophe knew that Victor was, by his own description, average. He wasn't bad at it at all, knew all the techniques, the stances, but had no knack to it. Victor never showed any interest in it anyway, and neither had Christophe particularly; they'd seen and been in enough actual fights to know that real fighting was more messy than the grace of fencing.

And what Victor was learning, for hours and hours every single day, was not graceful either.

"He just asked to join in one of our spars one day," a guard told Lord Christophe. "Almost broke his nose that first day, but he kept with it." Christophe was shocked to realise that there was mirth and  _pride_ to the guard's tone. "His lordship's good."

And, to Christophe's horror, his friend was. He had snuck out of writing an essay for his tutor, had been exploring the palace. When he came to the barracks he thought an actual fight had broken out... and then he instantly recognised Victor's silver hair streaking through, unarmed and facing soldiers armed with practice sticks and wooden blades, ducking around savage blows that seemed to show no mercy, rebuking them with sharp counters of elbows into noses, kicks into exposed backs, palms into the backs of heads.

Christophe did not recognise the tremble of adrenaline in Victor's every limb, from his wobbling knees to his shaking hands, all determinedly ignored. Nor did he miss the naked fear in his best friend's face, or...

Fury. There was fury there too, setting his friend's eyes ablaze. Christophe had no idea what had lit them like that. He fled, not knowing what to say when Victor spotted him, sweaty and panting from the exertion.

Victor said nothing. He appeared at dinner that night, quiet as ever, a bruise on his cheekbone purpling under his fringe, almost unnoticed. Christophe peered across, and saw a stranger.

That wasn't the worst. The worst was that he was absolutely certain that Victor didn't trust him anymore, because otherwise he would tell him where it was that he snuck out to every night, when Christophe knocked on his door and found an empty bedroom.

It wasn't that Victor didn't talk to him at all. On the rare occasion that their paths crossed in the palace - Victor seemed to hide from everyone indiscriminately - it always seemed that Victor didn't say much of any importance, or he was deliberately picking his subjects. For instance, he excitedly told Christophe all about Makkachin, showed him that the dog could magically grow to be as large as a prize horse, and -

"Err... Victor... you know that you're invisible right now... right?"

"Eh?"

Was this how isolated Victor had become? Had no one had ever noticed that when he clambered on to the back of his enormous poodle, and the dog leapt into the air, legs scrambling as though trying to find purchase on nothing, the two simply and slowly faded from view in a way that had nothing to do with distance... Christophe's fists clenched. Did he too really need to be hidden from?

"Where do you go that you need to be invisible for...?"

Silence. And Christophe had no idea if Victor was even there to hear him, or if he was choosing not to answer.

Resentment settled into Christophe's gut at the rejection. He had left someone who made him feel good, made him feel happy for...  _this_. He knew that he didn't really have a choice about coming to the palace in Piter, was here for his parents' favour with the Feltman clan, but... what truly was stopping him from getting a horse and leaving? What were his ineffective parents really going to do to him?

Before Christophe could give that thought too much attention, the weather intervened. Early winter storms hit, and snow piled higher than it had for a while. All of them found themselves confined to the palace, barely able even to make it to the gardens, let alone the barracks for practice. Christophe stewed as he found himself stuck with his tutor, and... he was certain that Victor became...

Restless. He looked like... like he permanently couldn't stop himself from scratching an itch, like he could barely sit for any length of time, like he was absolutely desperate to get out. Makkachin followed him everywhere, barely leaving his master's side.

When the storms passed, but left everything white and iced over, Christophe thought about asking his friend if he wanted to skate with him; the lake in the palace grounds had frozen over. He never made a decision in the end, as Victor beat him to it. Christophe arrived at the lake to find Victor already there, with Makkachin watching from the edge, and hesitated before joining his friend. Then he frowned at himself, angry at how distant they had become over only a few months apart - they had spent summers apart before, but... they had always written to each other frequently, there had always been a letter on the road going one way or the other - and now...

Christophe laced up and went out to skate by himself; the lake was large enough for them both.

But he found himself too distracted; Victor... Victor skated with madness. Christophe wasn't sure if he had even noticed he had company, or if he had, he appeared to have forgotten. It was just yet another thing that was terrible to behold.

Victor skated _desperately_. There was a yearning in his movements, a beg every time he jumped and hoped to land right, and... Christophe's mouth dropped open with frightened awe. With every twist and turn, Victor both pushed someone away and reached out for someone he never managed to find. Victor skated like he was petrified of something that followed him, and desperately trying to find salvation, a light in all the dark.

Christophe fled. He couldn't bare to watch anymore. Makkachin whimpered as he got off the ice, yanked off his skates and his boots back on. But whatever the dog was trying to tell him, Christophe didn't understand. He didn't know how the dog did it... staying at his master's side every day and not being able to help.

Then something happened that no one saw coming.

"Lady Mari... we weren't expecting you," Lord Yakov said gruffly, his expression somewhat priceless. Christophe hid a smirk; the old lord didn't know whether or not to be affronted by the young woman who dared to just show up unannounced, or amused at her audacity.

"I apologise, my lord," she said, sounding thoroughly unapologetic. "I would have thought you knew that your son invited me."

All eyes turned to Victor, and Christophe frowned. Victor hid it quickly, hid it well, but he saw Victor's eyes widen before quickly settling. Strange... he hadn't invited her at all. "Ah... yes... umm... sorry, Father..."

Lord Yakov frowned at Victor too - Christophe was not the only one who saw through him - and then gave a resigned sigh. "In that case it is I who is sorry, Lady Mari, for not being better prepared to receive and welcome you."

She smiled, waved away his apology, for a moment seeming much more like her mother. "Not at all, my lord. Please, accept an open invitation in return; you are always welcome in Hasetsu, please know that my parents will never mind you turning up unannounced at their door either. In fact..." And Lady Mari's expression softened out of stateliness. "Truly... I think my father would be incredibly happy to see you. You are his friend; you need no invite."

Lord Yakov smiled at that, chastened a little, and Christophe found himself smiling too. Of all of the alliances between clans, the one between the Feltsman clan and the Katsuki clan was the only one that was genuine; they truly were welcome at each others' doors at a moment's notice, would truly always be glad to see each other. "Thank you, Lady Mari. You look well, child, I'm glad for it." And all of that too was true.

At dinner, Lady Mari spoke warmly of her parents' well wishes to Lord Yakov and his family, spoke of how gruelling the journey had been in the wake of the winter storms, and she reached out and flicked Victor's ear for failing to tell his father that she was coming. But she also apologised for not arriving sooner, saying that she had meant to leave before the storms, spoke of her frustration at the delay, and seemed... genuinely sorry for it, genuinely frustrated.

Christophe couldn't help it; he spent the dinner in silence, hiding behind his hand, trying not to laugh. For Lady Mari spoke like a _lord_ , with bluntness and confidence, and absolutely none of the quiet cool that Lady Lilia was so good at exuding. Lord Yakov looked like he didn't know how to act, like he was having one of his rare moments when he thanked the stars for giving him sons, not daughters. Normally he cursed the stars instead.

Christophe admired her for that perhaps most of all. At twenty years old, Mari sat with her back straight, stood tall, her head held high. Adulthood had made her body curvy, but her kimono, in elegant folds of black and white, made her look regal rather than feminine. She wore her black hair up without frills, choosing to thread a black bandana through the knots rather than adornments, which meant that when she turned her head the usual decorations of Hasetsan women didn't chime distractingly. No, specifically there was almost nothing about her that was distracting. Lady Mari demanded respect with every inch of herself, with every word she said, with every time that she looked at you. And she deserved it.

Christophe wondered who had inspired her to be like this, who had been her idol, her role model. He suspected it didn't come from her parents, who were so much affable. But whoever it was... Christophe owed them a deep bow. For it was Lady Mari that he hoped to emulate one day. If Lord Toshiya wasn't exceptionally proud of his daughter, he was a fool, but Christophe rather suspected that actually... her father probably encouraged her.

Given what happened after, Lord Katsuki definitely had reason to be proud.

The whole way through dinner, even though it seemed like she was doing all the talking, Christophe knew that Lady Mari was sizing everyone up. That she saw straight through Victor. It didn't surprise him at all when, at breakfast, Lady Mari announced that she would be taking both of the boys on an excursion with her, and to please apologise to their tutors for the day. Lady Lilia smiled and nodded (Christophe rather suspected that she liked Lady Mari immensely too, saw through her too). "Of course. Lord Christophe has been studying hard lately, and deserves a break, and Victor has been spending far too much time getting bruised during his sparring lessons."

"Ah -" Victor looked like he was going to say something, but then as always lost the drive to do so and trailed off. Lady Mari's eyes narrowed, watching.

So it didn't really surprise Christophe when, upon all of them fitting into a carriage and it was past the gates, Lady Mari seized Victor's collar and pulled him closer. "Why haven't you been replying to my letters, hmm?"

"I -" Victor winced, both at the question and her pinch. Makkachin barked, but... clever boy. He didn't stop or growl at Lady Mari.

"And don't give me any nonsense about not getting any, I know precisely when you moved back from Turicum. You know that your last letter was from school? Literally on your last day, that's when your last letter was from." She even plucked said letter from her coat pocket, waved it in Victor's face. "You were so looking forward to going home that you wrote me _three_ pages of all the things you were hoping to do when you came home." She let go of Victor's ear, glaring at him. "You were  _happy, excited_. I thought your silence was because you were busy, because you were enjoying yourself too much. Then your father wrote to mine and asked for advice on how to deal with  _heartbreak_. I really doubt he was asking on his own behalf, or on Yurio's."

Victor's face fell, as did Christophe's. Heartbreak...?

"So here I am, staging an intervention," Mari said, her tone suddenly...

Resolute.

Christophe had to check his own awe, had to make sure he did not scoff at himself. He remembered that he had once been jealous of her, had thought that Victor loved her. Now, without the tinted glasses of young love, he could see it clear as day. Victor had called her his sister; yes. Yes, she really was. And older sisters are constantly being annoyed by their younger brothers.

And they will protect them until the final days of the Earth.

She banged on the ceiling of the carriage, and it duly stopped. She waited a moment, commenting only that 'this will do', and one of the Katsuki Ninjas opened the door with a nod. She nodded in return, and got out without ceremony, barking an order for them both to follow. The moment Christophe's feet touched ground, she grabbed him by the collar too. "Do _you_ know anything about what's wrong with him?"

Christophe's eyes widened, and he shook his head, his stomach clenching with regret. She narrowed her eyes. "No... no, I didn't think you did. He couldn't even confide in you either." She let go, quickly righted his clothes, suddenly maternal. Satisfied, Lady Mari took a bag from under the seat in the carriage, and marched into the wood. She didn't even need to tell them to follow.

They were literally in the middle of nowhere. The palace was somewhere in the distance, the city of Piter further away on the other side. The wood had been given over to pigs before the storm hit, and the ground was uneven in places from their hooves.

It was a lonely place. Overly quiet, devoid of colour.

Somewhere amongst the trees the guards were spread out, out of sight, their faces obscured and usual garments layered over with furs to keep out the cold, a long way from the more temperate winters of Hasetsu. Lady Mari too was wrapped up, her coat long and almost trailing over the leaf-covered ground, covering her clothes. Christophe wondered briefly if she was only wearing the white socks that Hasetsan women favoured with their kimonos, and sandals instead of boots... brrr.

"This is fine."

They stopped at the edge of a clearing, where the mist licked across the ground, and they could barely see any of the world past the field. Lady Mari bent, the movement unexpectedly elegant before she tipped the bag upside down and let a blanket fall out, as well as a small tin, water satchel, a kettle. She spread the blanket over the ground, revealing that it was wrapped round a simple teapot and three cups protectively, and barked an order at the two boys to sit - they did - and...

Went about starting a fire, finding satisfactory sticks from the wood-edge and using a flint from her pocket, and put water on to heat.

Combined with the winter-silence of the clearing, it was painfully awkward, so none of them spoke. Lady Mari was occupied, in control, and Christophe had no words.

Victor meanwhile hugged Makkachin, looking increasingly nervous. He... he hadn't even protested, this whole time.

Finally, Lady Mari took tea leaves from the tin, poured the water into the pot, patiently let it infuse, and then finally Christophe found himself bowing his head respectfully as he accepted a cup of tea from Lady Katsuki Mari. He held the tiny cup with the tips of his fingers of both hands, let the steam waft into his nose, enjoyed the heat cupped in his hands. Strangely, now that he had the tea, the silence felt more... fitting.  _Right_ , even. There was a peace to be found in this barren place, this clearing that was remembered only by swine and the birds, where they might be equally forgotten here and left to simply be.

The three of them sitting on that blanket, watching the mist, sipping their tea... they were just Mari, Victor and Chris. Stripped of their titles, that did not make them nothing. That left them friends, nearly family. It left them with their strengths and weaknesses, things that could be credited to their characters, not who they had been born to be.

They didn't even need to look at each other when Mari finally spoke. She spoke to the mist, knowing that it was the same. "Victor... brother. Let's not abide small talk... or suffer lies."

Victor tensed, but after a moment's hesitation gave a nod, not looking at his friends either. Christophe, on the edge of the blanket, bracketing his best friend, turned away from the mist to watch them... wondering why in the world he was there.

Mari raised her chin, and spoke with soft straightness. "You are suffering, Victor..."

Victor - and Christophe - flinched. Neither had heard anyone say so so starkly. Christophe's heart twisted; he hadn't even allowed himself to think that of his friend. Victor... Victor had heart-shaped smiles and laughed at Christophe's jokes. Even after all these months of not seeing or hearing either... he hadn't thought that.

"Please, brother. Tell us what is wrong."

... Silence. Victor shook, but that might have just been the cold. No... of course not. It wasn't the cold.

Mari didn't move, and Christophe could tell it was with careful deliberation. She didn't sigh, and she didn't falter. "Your father thinks a maid took your heart, and trampled it." Her eyes briefly flicked to Victor, and back to the mist again. "The servants think otherwise."

Victor looked up with surprise, and Christophe's mouth dropped open slightly. What...?

"Oh yes. Victor, many of them have watched you from birth, have seen us play together, have helped us find corners to laugh and share secrets, and when we spoke too loudly they have kept those secrets for us. I went down to the kitchens last night, and asked them to give some secrets back. So, with great reluctance and much second guessing... they told me that you came home, full of smiles. They told me that you laughed when Yurio shouted at you, that you embraced Lady Lilia without judgement. They told me that you were proud when your school results came through and your father was pleased. They told me that they think that you were proudest _because_ he was pleased. They told me..."

Mari frowned with terrible sadness barely concealed, and she finally turned and spoke everything that came next to Victor, sat beside her. "They told me that one day you were smiling, that you were happy... and then one night you weren't." She had to pause then. These were not neutral things to her. "They think that someone hurt you far more than a broken affair can. They think that the pain came so suddenly, that you have dealt with it so badly, that it couldn't possibly be just an affair... and they don't care what the court physician thinks."

"I..." Victor looked at the ground at his feet, his fists trembling around Makkachin's neck. The dog whimpered between his legs, nudged out of Victor's embrace and licked his knuckles encouragingly. It didn't release Victor's grip.

"What happened, brother?" Mari asked, her voice gentle for all her determination.

Christophe watched his friend screw up his face, saw the tears escape. He hadn't known any of this, that Victor had so suddenly turned. Why hadn't the servants told him anything? Christophe shook his head at the thought. Of course they wouldn't, it was not their place to seek Lord Christophe Giacometti out, a fifteen year old boy far above their station, to talk about their own lord. But... in all the months he had been there since the end of the summer, he had not once thought to ask anyone what was wrong with his friend. His father hadn't said anything, nor Lady Lilia, and Little Yurio was playing indifferent at least. Lady Mari had gone looking, using her sharp mind to find the answers she needed, had done so even on her very first night at the palace.

"I can't..." Victor stumbled to his feet blindly and started walking away. Christophe made a noise, twisted to stand and follow, maybe to stop him, maybe just to go with him. Makkachin barked after Victor, _not_ following, and Mari -

Lady Mari stared at Victor's vacant spot on the blanket, and sighed. She raised her fingers to her lips and whistled.

Sleek metal spun through the air out of the trees and stabbed into the ground in Victor's path. He halted with a cry, shocked, and stared at the sword in his way. It was a Hasetsan blade, the metal thin and curved, the hilt handsomely bound by strips of black leather.

Victor turned to stare at Mari's back, horrified. Feeling it, she raised her chin, her face sad but unrelenting. "Victor, you're not leaving this clearing until I can be sure that it's possible for you to smile again."

Christophe stared at them both, gobsmacked. Makkachin whimpered, but only tossed his head from Mari to Victor, and then barked at his master, as if trying to say...  _don't go. They're here to help. Please don't go._

"I... I'm not fighting you, Mari..." Victor said shakily, trying to smile with amusement that he didn't feel.

"Best tell us what happened then." She nodded her head toward Christophe. "Both of us. He's your best friend, Victor, you told me yourself. And this has gone on long enough, I think. We are your friends; we will not tolerate you being in pain." Finally she turned her head over her shoulder and looked at him. "Sit back down, brother. I'll make you some more tea."

And she turned back to the small teapot, picked up Victor's cup and refilled it. She offered to Christophe, but he looked too... Christophe didn't know what to do. He didn't understand...

Why was Lady Mari doing this?

She sighed very, very quietly when Victor finally moved, came back and sat down, taking up his tea, stroking Makkachin's relieved head. Christophe, after an uncertain moment, followed suit. They sat in silence again, this time one that not even the tea could purify.

"Mari..." Victor started, his voice trembling. "I... I can't..."

She nodded. "That's alright."

Slowly, she reached out a hand and placed it carefully on Victor's hand. He started, surprised at the contact, though not unwelcoming of it. But still Lady Mari stared into the mist, seeing beyond it. "I've seen the look on your face before. One of the maids in Hasetsu... I watched Oka-san help her." Lady Mari's face sharpened. "A man hung for it. He was not mourned."

"Ma-Mari..." Tears streamed down Victor's face.

Mari came away from the past, back to her friend in the present. "I can tell you what I pieced together, if... if that's better for you."

Victor closed his eyes. "P-Please..." He could have meant anything by that. Please do or please don't.

Mari lifted her hand to his cheek, looking at him with such sadness. Christophe's heart broke.  _A man hung for it. He was not mourned_. He had figured it out.

Quietly, she spoke of how one servant noted that the change happened after Victor had taken Makkachin out for a ride. Another said that later that day Victor ate nothing, but very late at night asked to use the baths, stayed in there for hours and hours, looking for all the world like he was desperate to be cleansed. Another was sure that he came back happy from the ride, had been chatting to the stable boy for a while as he put Makkachin in his pen.

Victor started shaking, his eyes shut, his cheek clinging to Mari's hand with tears.

Another, she continued softly, another servant unheard by the others, said that Victor often stayed in the stables, that the stable boy was new... and young and good-looking and charming... and vanished from the palace soon after a very changed Victor retreated to his room, without so much as serving his notice to the housekeeper, or even took his things in his flight. He was gone... he was gone...

"He's gone, Victor," Mari said again.

Victor sobbed at this, falling into her arms as she reached out for him, wrapping him up safely. "I didn't..." The words just managed to squeeze themselves out of Victor's constricting lungs. "I didn't... I didn't...  _I didn't want to_..."

Unseen by Victor, Mari's face twisted and she ducked her head into his shoulder. "I kn-know, brother, I know..."

"It...  _it hurt_..."

All Mari could do was nod, still listening, her face twisted with grief.

"I didn't... I didn't m-mean for...  _I didn't mean for it to happen_..."

Mari's fingers clawed into fists over Victor's back. "I know you didn't. It's not your fault. You hear me, Victor, brother? _It's not your fault_."

Christophe stared. He didn't mean for this to happen either...

He tried not to cry himself as Victor slowly calmed, and remained leaning into Mari's embrace, the two of them staring out into the mist again. Victor's first smile, as weak as it was, came when she stroked his hair and commented that she liked his haircut, that it was in fact easier to stroke now. She made him sit up so that she could sternly tell him, to his face, to own this new style, that it suited him well, that he looked handsome for it. "If you miss the length then grow it out again, but when you start smiling properly again - and you will, I promise - your cheeks won't hide in the lengths; there will be nothing to distract from your smile, for nothing should."

Eventually, when the cold was in their bones, they offered their tepid tea back to the fire to put it out, stamped over the remaining embers to be sure not to start a forest-fire, and packed all of their things away. The sword Lady Mari pulled out of the earth herself, pulled back her coat to reveal the scabbard it belonged to at her hip - revealing also that she was wearing hakama, the flared trousers of lords in the court of Hasetsu. She sheathed the blade and tossed it to Victor. "A welcome-home present, for your sparring lessons. I'm sorry that it was late." And she said no more about it.

That evening, after a subdued dinner, Christophe stewed. Why had Lady Mari brought him there to hear all of that? Why had Victor never said a thing? Why... why why why...

When the penny finally dropped, he ran and knocked on Victor's door. Finally.

"Chris...?"

"I'm sorry I'm late too!"

That came out wrong, but... it was what came to Christophe's mind first. All those months of not trying harder to find his friend, thinking he shouldn't have to try so hard because Victor was right there and he was right there too and it shouldn't be _hard_ , pitying himself for the effort he wasn't making.

Lady Mari brought Christophe to that clearing so that he would know. What he chose to do with what he knew was up to him. And he knew.

Victor, blinking with surprise at his friend at his bedroom door, finally -  _finally_ \- smiled with something like the affection he used to smile with for Christophe back in Turicum. It was weak, like a candle freshly lit. "Come. I was going to have a bath. Join me?"

It was an odd thing, watching Victor strip and step into the open-air tub in the Katsuki-style bath-house. Odd because Christophe knew it meant that... that Victor trusted him after all, and odd because it didn't affect him nearly as much as it once would have. He stripped too, and winced as he stepped into the unfamiliarly hot water, and sat by his friend.

They sat in silence for a bit, out of practice. Then...

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything all this time..."

Christophe flinched at Victor's apology. "You... you don't have to be sorry for that. Ever. For any of it." He took a deep breath. "If... if it had been me... I probably would have done the same." His turn. "I'm sorry I didn't ask. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to find out what was wrong."

A beat. Then Victor sighed. "You don't have to be sorry about that either. I... I think it might have made things worse." Christophe caught the tiny, tiny smile. "I... I'm glad you were both there today. It... it helped."

Christophe gave a small smile at that too. That was something at least, he guessed. "Do... do you want to talk about it more?"

Victor thought, truly, about it for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No... I... no... I don't know."

Christophe waited, and then nodded. "That's alright. If you ever do, you can, you know?"

Victor smiled, as best he could, again. "I... I know. Thank you." The smile slowly dissolved away. Then... "I... I liked him... or at least... I thought I did... I don't know anymore." He blinked, and a tear fell into the bathwater. "I... I really didn't know that that was going to... to happen..."

"Victor." Christophe stared at his friend, trying and failing to hide his horror. " _Of course_ you didn't know. It's not your fault."

Victor stared at him, disbelieving. "You... you don't know what happened..."

Christophe bristled. "No, I don't. But... he... this...  _man_... he _hurt_ you, didn't he? Did you _want_ to be hurt?" Victor didn't answer. He didn't need to answer. "Did you _ask_ him to hurt you?" He still didn't need to answer, but Victor shook his head eventually anyway. "So he did that all on his own. That's on _him_ , not you."

Christophe had to pause for a moment. He was... he was furious. So furious he could boil the water he was in, but if he did he'd boil Victor with him. "Do... do you know his name?" Victor shook his head again after a moment. Christophe nodded. He didn't know what he would have done if Victor did know. He didn't really know what to make of the fact that Victor hadn't known this man's name. "Do... do you want to do anything about it?" He exhaled, pointedly. "She did give you a sword, after all."

Again, Victor slowly shook his head. "N-No. I... I'm sorry. I just... I'm just glad to hear he's not here anymore. I... I don't want... I don't know..."

Christophe frowned, still trying to control his fury, but... that made sense to him. He didn't like it, he wanted vengeance for his friend, but... he still understood it. "That's alright."

"I..." Victor shrank into himself. "I don't want everyone to know that I..." Another tear escaped. "N-No one can know that... that I liked a... a man..."

Christophe's heart dropped like a stone. He hadn't thought of that. He thought of Masumi... tried not to think what would happen if they got caught, even being happy.

"Chris?" He pulled himself from his thoughts, and instantly returned Victor's relieved smile. "I'm glad you know now. I really am sorry that I couldn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry that the last few months have been... have been..." Words defeated him.

Chris smiled genuinely. "I know. I... I was about to say I'm glad I know now too, but really I'd rather be glad that it never happened to you. But... I am glad I know now. I'm sorry too."

Victor tentatively lifted his hand out of the water, and Christophe smiled as he shook it. That said plenty for both of them.

They stayed in those waters even as the night grew cold above the steam. It would be a long while yet until Christophe heard Victor laugh, or even saw him smile without a limit, but by the time they got out with wrinkly fingers and instant goosebumps as they ran for towels and the warmth of inside, Christophe had managed to tell Victor about Masumi. And when they retreated to Victor's room, they sprawled across the rug in front of the fire with hot cocoa, and Christophe told Victor all about how he had brazenly told Masumi, in a whisper during a thoroughly boring ceremonial dinner, that he would very much like to kiss him. Christophe told Victor all about how Masumi had blushed and grinned, and said that if he dared he'd kiss him back. So they found a shadowed spot away from everyone and dared, but not dared do much more.

"I don't even know really  _what_ I would dare to do!" Christophe said, laughing at his own admittance of youthful ignorance. He realised too late that Victor had an unpleasant idea of what he _could_ dare to do, but Victor didn't seem to catch on. There was, after all, a very, very big difference between the things one does with someone you want to do such things with, and... the things you don't.

"We'll try and figure out excuses to send you home," Victor said, smiling as best he could. "So you can do more than just write to each other."

Christophe smiled properly at the offer. "Thank you. That... that would be good." His voice dropped low. "I miss him. I... I worry that one day I won't receive any more letters. I know that it can't last, but... I don't want to give him up yet either."

Victor slowly reached out and touched his hand on his cup of cocoa. "Then don't. I'm glad he makes you happy, Chris. Don't give that up."

This wasn't so bad, Christophe thought. He'd dreaded telling Victor about Masumi at one point, of un-explicitly confessing that he no longer wanted Victor the way he once did. He mourned those days however; in those days, Victor had never been... anyway.

A generous thought occurred to Christophe; he hoped that Victor would know what it was like for someone to kiss him and make him feel like how Masumi made Christophe feel. And just as he thought that, Victor looked up at him, looking... cautious. "Chris? There's... there's something else I... that I didn't tell you... or Mari... please don't tell anyone this. Including Masumi. Promise?"

Christophe promised easily, and Victor told him all about the boy on the frozen lake.

It didn't occur to him that night, but with time... Christophe wondered again if he ought to be worried again.

* * *

XV

* * *

Yuri didn't know what to do.

No, strike that... he had some options, and wasn't sure if any of them were right, let alone which of them was more right than the others.

And all the snot was not helping. (There was so much snot.) Yuri didn't realise just how much snot such a tiny human being could produce. Surely he hadn't been that sticky when he was a baby?

(YES, his guardians would tell him later when he went home.)

This was a bit embarrassing, but Yuri couldn't remember which triplet was which still. It wasn't because they looked the same; he could tell that there were the tiniest of differences between them, even though some of those differences weren't even physical. For instance, the one in blue tended to scream the most, but was the easiest to shush. Yuri thought the one in pink looked ever so slightly more like a sleeping Takeshi. And the one in purple, who Yuri was pretty sure was Axel, was... well, was Yuri's favourite. Not that he had favourites but... she was.

"I think you're her favourite too," her mother said, her tired smile no less radiant.

Yuri blushed, even as he carried on rocking the baby in his arms (purple, he was  _sure_ she was Axel, not Lutz or Loop... Takeshi had been pretty drunk, having escaped to the tavern, when he named them...). "I... I'm not..."

"You are. Even when her grandmother picks her up, Axel screams her head off."

That did nothing for Yuri's blush; if anything, it made it worse. But... firstly, ah, so it was Axel, and secondly... it surprised him how flattered he felt. "That's only because your mother smokes a pipe non-stop like a chimney."

Yuuko giggled, then winced as the baby in blue in her arms fidgeted at her breast, and she adjusted the tiny girl, her attention prioritised. "Probably, yes. They all start wailing when Mother comes too close."

As if to agree, Takeshi grunted in his sleep, and the pink baby cradled in his arms - if she moved, he would have woken instantly, like trying to remove a beer glass from the hand of a passed-out patron in a bar - made a strange noise too, copying her father in her sleep. Yuuko smiled tenderly at the sight, and then turned to her childhood friend. "Seriously though, Yuri. If you ever feel up to baby-sitting,  _please do_. I want to spend some time with my husband as just his wife, not his pregnant fiancée, nor his very-pregnant wife."

Yuri smiled at the thought, even as he grimaced internally. He loved his two friends, loved being an unofficial godfather to the triplets, but...  _no_. As it was, he was absolutely petrified he was going to somehow break Axel in his arms. He didn't know how he could do that, maybe she would just fall out of his arms like a errant egg and crack on the floor, but if anyone would be able to do he could. No way was he volunteering to have that feeling triplicated.

"I'm not sure that I'll have the time soon..." Yuri admitted, keeping his eyes on the baby sleeping in his arms, who couldn't look up at him with the same shrewdness as her mother.

"Of course," Yuuko said, sighing, as though she was relieved that Yuri was finally talking about it with her. "Have you decided?"

 _No_... Yes...?

He had two options presented to him. The first...

Minako had made him blush months ago when she told him that he would have aced the final examinations to earn his certificate of education from the school, a basic requirement of any employer looking for an apprentice of skill and talent, if he had sat them over a year ago. But Yuri had asked to not sit it early, to wait until his peers entered into the school hall together to write their essays in silence, buying himself time that he didn't actually need. He had already turned sixteen, not that that truly meant anything, for he could seek a vocation at any age, provided that his employer thought him fit enough to be taken on.

Indeed, his two options already had deemed him fit. He had really already started, at both even.

"Have you thought about being a teacher?" Minako had asked him at the beginning of the school year. Yuri had blushed madly, at the compliment within, at the prospect, at even the attention of the question. "You already support me with the younger ones with their studies, have helped many pass where they wouldn't have otherwise. You'd be good. I'd happily take you on as an apprentice when you're ready."

It was tempting. A... ready solution. Yuri knew it wasn't an option to just continue his life as it was; going to school, skating in his free time, going home to Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo. Even that... that last wasn't going to be happening anyway.

A few months ago his guardians had sat him down and talked uneasily about the future. Guang Hong confessed that now that Yuri was approaching adulthood, he could no longer stay, had callings to attend to in his homeland. Leo too had other duties that he had put off in Columbia, and could not afford to do so for long either. They both admitted this with reluctance, both profusely telling Yuri how much they would miss him, how much they loved him, and reassured that they would not be gone forever, that they would return and visit as often as they could.

Yuri hadn't been expecting it. It... hurt. He didn't have it in him to ask that they stay for him, knew that if they had to go they had to go, but...

He loved them too. They had brought him up, they were his life, his family. He didn't want to lose them...

He had turned to Phichit, trying to hold back tears, and asked if he too had to leave.

Phichit smiled, trying his best to be reassuring. "No."

Oh, the relief...

It had been short-lived. Later, when Phichit came to watch him skate, he admitted... "I won't be able to stay for much longer... a couple of years, perhaps? I can put things off for longer than Leo and Guang Hong, but..." And then he trailed off into sad silence.

Yuri nearly fell on the ice. No... please no...

Phichit looked up, smiling through tears he was trying not to shed. "I don't want to leave you though. So I want to see you settled, see that you'll be alright. There's no rush on that; everything else can wait." Phichit's bottom lip wobbled. "I'm so proud of you... I know that you'll be alright..."

They both cried then.

Later, when Cousin Mariko came to visit - at twenty three, she was a full-fledged woman, independent and strong - Yuri skated for her, skated out his worries and frustrations, and then sat with her on the bank of the frozen lake, catching his breath.

"You're growing up too, Yuri," she said, smiling proudly. "This was bound to happen eventually, you knew that, right?"

Yuri hung his head and nodded. Yes, he had, but... "I didn't really realise how... soon it would happen. I don't feel grown up at all."

Cousin Mariko laughed. "Well, of course not. You're only sixteen, Yuri. You're  _not_ grown up yet."

He looked over at her, smiling at her amusement. "When will I be?" Then he frowned, shook the question away, discarded it, and jumped in with the question he actually wanted to ask. "When did _you_ feel like you were grown up?"

Mariko blinked, carefully considered the question. "Hmm..." Then she nudged his shoulder. "Can you keep a secret?" He nodded; of course. "Sometimes... sometimes I  _still_ feel like I haven't grown up. Like I'm just pretending, you know?" Then she frowned, suddenly cross. "I have a lot of people who think that I'm not grown up either yet, that I won't be until I'm married and have children, and until then I'm just being a child myself still." She grunted, conveying her thoughts on that in that sound alone. "Well, they can all hold their breath on that one, and suffocate for all I care."

It was Yuri's turn to blink, to consider. Who were 'they'? Surely not his uncle and aunt, they didn't seem the type to force anyone to do anything they didn't want to. "You... don't want to, then?"

She gave a barking laugh. "No. Well... no. Not yet. Husbands... husbands are not interchangeable, after all, or certainly I think they shouldn't be. A husband is a partner, someone you want to support and be supported by through life," she said sagely. Then, wistfully... "I want to pick a  _man_ , and I want such a man to pick me as a  _woman_ , not as some means to produce babies and serve his needs. I won't take anything less."

Yuri smiled. He believed her, even if he could tell that she wasn't quite as sure of her words as she wanted to be. "Good. You deserve the best."

Cousin Mariko blushed. She said nothing for a moment, and then flung her arm round Yuri's shoulders, pulling him into her side for a one-armed hug. He flinched at first, as he always did when people he weren't used to touch him, and then he melted into the embrace, letting himself go to the comfort he found in her warmth. She didn't mind his hesitation, was long used to it.

Maybe... maybe it won't be so bad, he thought. Cousin Mariko was family too, she wasn't there all the time, he could only see her every few months. They just made sure that when they did see each other they made it count, just as he did with Uncle Toshiryu and Aunt Hirokei. He could - he  _would_ \- do the same for Leo and Guang Hong, when they had to go.

It would be alright. They'd make sure of it.

"What about you, Yuri?" Mariko asked. "What do you want to do?" He started telling her about Minako's offer, but she soon shook her head. "No, Yuri... what do you  _want_ to do?"

He... he didn't know. Or... no, he had an idea, but... he wasn't sure yet...

Later, when Lady Mari went home, she curled into her mother's side, even though she was too tall to do it properly anymore, and told her how strange it was to talk to her brother about his future, knowing... knowing that in only five years, they were all hoping that he would be able to come home, that the curse would be broken. That when - not  _if_ , they refused to consider  _if_ he came home to his family in Hasetsu - _when_  he did, it would be to take up the mantel as Lord Toshiya's heir. A far cry from the existence he currently had, hidden away at the border, considering being a modest school teacher or...

"Yuuko?"

Yuri's childhood friend looked up from her daughter to see him staring out of the window, at the light, at beyond. "Yes, Yuri?"

"I... I don't want to be a teacher."

Slowly, she smiled. "No, I didn't think you did." He glanced at her, surprised. "You'd be good at it, Yuri, but I don't think that you would enjoy it, not really."

He smiled gratefully, and nodded. "It's... it is fun, sometimes, helping Minako's struggling pupils, but..." He shrugged. It was just a feeling, a feeling of knowing that it wouldn't satisfy.

"Do you know what you want to do?"

Slowly, very slowly, Yuri nodded, and told her.

He kept to himself how much he would have wanted everything to stay exactly as it was, but things were already changing. His best school friends had married and had children, were parents and worked for Takeshi's parents now. His guardians were making their reluctant preparations to leave, would be gone after the winter was over. He wished he could do nothing but skate on the ice in the forest, without a care in the world, but... even he knew that that wasn't a possibility. Skate for what?

(Skate for who? He thought of the silver-haired boy again, and screwed his eyes shut, trying to... not forget. He couldn't forget.)

No. Even if that was an option, Yuri knew that... he knew he would get  _bored_ , and the idea of becoming bored of skating terrified him. It was his refuge... but refuge's are not meant to be occupied permanently. His mind was always active, looking to gobble up knowledge or use it. Whilst being a teacher at Minako's school would mean always using his knowledge, he knew that... well, the students he'd be teaching were unlikely to be interested in all the things that he was - physics, astronomy, algebra, chemistry - that in reality he would use barely a fraction of the things he'd learnt from all the books he'd found a home in.

Whereas...

After visiting the Nishigori's, Yuri took a detour back home. He knocked on a door, even though it wasn't necessary and he and anyone really were welcome in at that time. On this occasion it seemed fitting to ask for entrance. He was waved in, and, after talking for a couple of hours, he left with a job, and a potential future.

And so, Tosuu Yuri became an apprentice accountant and bookshop-keeper, where the figures of all the businesses in town would keep his brain challenged and busy, and he'd be surrounded by the best of distractions when the books were balanced.

It wasn't the life expected of Lord Katsuki Yuri, the son who would one day be responsible for an entire land, who would have to negotiate trade with neighbouring clans and avoid wars and conflicts, who would have to invest in infrastructure and decide on laws and taxes, who would have to deal with the bickering and political backstabbing of advisers all clamouring for favour... all the while knowing that he took such a duty away from his elder, well-qualified sister. It wasn't that life. It was smaller, and quieter, and easily forgotten in the machinations of the world...

And Yuri couldn't have been happier, being a geek and pouring over sums and trading books, before going home to pour artistry on to the ice.

He would be alright.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been cramming over 8 hours of study on top of 8 hour shifts at my job, and I'm ALMOST at the finish line...
> 
> Please send more luck and love, so that I may return to writing more regularly sooner :-)


	9. XVI-XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: VIOLENCE.
> 
> XVI you're safe with. XVII however... goes down quite a dark path.
> 
> And I'll say this now... this is not a doctrine, and I do not advocate for any of what happens. It just sort of... happened. But within this world... an eye for an eye.
> 
> Also... this chapter is very long.
> 
> Enjoy! It's good to be back!

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XVI

* * *

There was always something liberating about it.

Lady Katsuki Mari wasn't naive, or a fool, or remotely unaware of the risk she took every time that she made the journey to Kara. She didn't make it often - usually she went with her mother and father, or just her mother, in which case they took a carriage - but when she did, she... how best to explain it...

She felt like it made her smarter. She saw a little of the world, a world that normally only existed beyond the castle walls and that a clan daughter would never see, but... well. She was Lady Mari. She never did like restrictions.

She knew that people blamed her upbringing. When she was younger, she didn't understand what that meant; as a very young child, things were different to how they were now. That's how it had been... there wasn't anything she could do about it, and nor would she have done. But she thought of those days when she prepared to see her brother, and put aside her silks for rougher, faded red cotton. Mari liked getting ready in the morning the days that she went to see Yuri; getting dressed was so much simpler, in the long borrowed onsen jinbei, and tying her hair back quickly with a simple cord. She didn't have to stand there being swathed and tucked into a glorious kimono, or have her hair pulled and swept up into elaborate styles for the court. It made her smile sometimes, imagining what a nightmare she would have been if, back in her earliest days, she had to sit obediently and let someone dress her up so.

There's a reason why jinbei aren't difficult to get into; there's work to get on with. She _remembered_.

What life would have been like, if nothing had changed... Lady Mari sighed. For starters, she might not have had to take this journey at all.

Her mother would always fuss over her before she left, taking the servants' doors. Her father was still asleep; he had meetings with the new representatives from the Giacomettis, he needed it. Otherwise no one else was there, after a fashion.

Lady Mari was never alone when she made this journey, and when the whole Katsuki family went they weren't alone then either. The Hasetsu Ninjas were always hidden in the shadows; even she struggled to spot them, and they had taught her to be able to, amongst other important things.

Was _he_ there today, assigned to her, she wondered...

"Give Yuri our love, won't you?" Hiroko said, her hands still perfecting the paupers clothing her daughter wore like it was the same court kimono.

Mari smiled down at her mother. "No, 'ka-san, I'll tell him you think he smells -  _of course_  I'll tell him," Mari swerved direction, regretting her automatic tease.

Even after seventeen years... it was still...

It wasn't fair, Mari thought, for the thousandth time, and certainly not the last time. Yuri should have been there with them, so that they could tell him every day that they loved him. Not miles away unaware of his own name, or that his 'uncle', 'aunt' and 'cousin' cared so much more for him than was safe to let on.

Less than four years to go. Do not joke about counting down the days. They had  _always_ been counting down to the day when they knew the curse was done.

Lady Hiroko cupped her daughter's cheek in her hand, gazed up at her with... oh. Lady Mari was  _lucky_. In her time and place in the world, other parents might not have looked at her like this. But her parents... they looked on her with such love, and such  _pride_.

It was always a risk, making this journey to the border. Lady Mari was the eldest of Lord Katsuki's children - to all intents and purposes his _only_ child and heir; there would be many who would be interested in stealing her away whilst she was vulnerable. But when her mother looked at her like that, like she was worried anyway, as mothers do, but knew in her core that Mari was perfectly capable to looking after herself... Mari knew it too.

Even Lady Katsuki Mari had doubts and worries sometimes.

"Take care of yourself, Mari-chan," her mother said, and the two reached for each other for a hug and a kiss on each other's cheek.

"I will, I promise," Mari said. She was never allowed to leave without the promise, but every time she made it freely, sincerely. "I'll see you tomorrow morning -"

Hiroko shook her head. "Let me know when you're home tonight, even if it's late."

Mari frowned, about to object - it took over six hours, on a good day, to get to Kara - but her mother gave her a look. Mari backed down, and nodded. She knew the drill. "Alright."

The last part of their routine: "I love you."

Just in case. Just in case...

When Cousin Mariko emerged from Hasetsu Castle's servants entrance, it was still dark on an early summer morning, the horizon only just starting to burn. By the time she walked into town, a non-existent breeze occasionally rustling the trees above her, dawn was just cracking, and the first public coach of the day was getting ready to leave for the border. The driver took Mari's coins, not for a moment recognising her, and they were away.

Up ahead, guards on horseback ensured the route was safe, and further back a few more followed. Invisible amongst the luggage, a ninja kept his eyes open for trouble, whilst Mari was rocked to sleep beneath. She might as well; she was in good hands.

And, just in case, hidden under her rough cloak was a katana, the hilt stripped back to simple leather straps, the elaborate design that once adorned it - and still adorned its longer match, safe in Piter - no longer present. Decorated or not however, Mari knew how to use it, even though she had not yet had to. She hoped she never would.

She had tried to stay awake for this journey once, when she first made it alone, but she'd learnt that actually there was not much to see. The Katsuki lands were beautiful, green and lush, but it was mostly lots of rice fields broken up by forests, the occasional town that the road went through and briefly stopped at to feed and rest the horses. Likewise Mari had learnt to take these chances to stretch and relieve herself when she could, otherwise it was particularly uncomfortable at the end of the line.

As for when she got to Kara...

Kara was a town away from the border with the Feltsman lands. Subsequently, everything of particular interest was actually at the next stop, so she was always the only one who got off at Kara. Kara had very little to really recommend itself; there were a couple of inns, a couple of onsens at opposite ends of the town - town, barely that, more a large village - and a single main road where the market was. A few traders came from across the border to trade beets and potatoes and grains to the locals, but the main exchange was at the border; in Kara, it was all only local need. At the edges of the main road skilled services could be found, such as the seamstresses, the blacksmiths, and the town's only bookshop, whose owner had long managed the accounts of all the traders in Kara, and ensured that the tax collectors got their due; the downside of the proximity to the border, it was easy to collect revenue. It was a day of rest, so nowhere was open, but a light was burning in that same bookshop, so Mariko walked in...

... And at the counter, a seventeen year old boy looked up from a log book, and beamed at the sight of his family.

"Cousin!"

Mari noticed immediately, as Yuri came out from behind the counter and came to embrace her. It had only been a few months, but - "You... you got taller again..."

He had... or had she just not noticed how much the last time? It didn't seem all that long ago when she looked _down_ \- even if by only a couple of inches - at him, not... not  _up_.

Yuri pulled out of the hug, blushing. "No... I just... ano..."

Well, at least that hadn't changed in the slightest. He was still so shy, so easily flustered. That always made Mari smile. Then she frowned. "Please tell me you're not working all day, you  _knew_ I was coming today!"

He waved his hands worriedly. "No, I'm not! I... it's my day off, but... there's a lot to do, so I just popped in until you got here, and -"

"And now that your cousin is here, enjoy your day off," a gruff voice interrupted.

Mari peeked round her brother. The voice belonged to the shop owner; an elderly gentleman, stocky and grey; an old man who looked like he had decades left in him still. He tilted his head to her, eyes twinkling like he didn't need to wink, and then he vanished out back again. Yuri blushed again, called out an affirmative, and led the way out. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

They went through the dull opener of how her long journey had been, and how 'Aunt Hirokei' and 'Uncle Toshiryu' were, before Mari got to the topic she wanted. "How's the job going?"

And her brother did something she hadn't been expecting; he lit up, and started talking non-stop, all the way to the edge of the bamboo forest, up the path that only he and Phichit would tread, and carried on at the kitchen table as Phichit put tea in front of her.

It was going well then, was the gist.

Mari didn't understand anything Yuri said about figures and taxes and investments and the like, but the whole time she understood one thing very clearly; he was enjoying it enormously.

Nerd, she thought with a smile.

"We don't get a lot of customers for the books," he was saying, his own cup of tea nearly still full and cold, eyes bright behind his glasses. "But we tend to get a lot of collectors, from as far as Piter even. Otherwise it's mostly the local businesses inquiring about their books." Yuri raised his cup to his lips, smiled at some thought and forgot to drink yet again. "Mr Plisetski's been really kind, teaching me everything over the years. I'm very grateful to him."

Across the table, her tea long finished and in need of no more, Mari smiled. She had barely spoken a word since she had come in. Yuri seemed to realise this and paled, and desperately asked about how the onsen was doing instead, apologising for boring her.

"You're not boring me," she scolded. "On the contrary."

Indeed, it meant less time lying to him. She had to dig deep for detail about the general running of onsens. Seemed she did an alright job however, as they moved on naturally to other things.

They had lunch, just some rice, soup, some chicken and vegetables, and then Phichit took over the talking as they grew quieter to digest their food. He told them about the correspondence he had received from Guang Hong and Leo, both of them now in places far beyond the clans. Guang Hong it seemed had found a dragon nest, but just as he feared the eggs were already hatched, and his return visit would have to be delayed. Leo meanwhile was negotiating with the spirit worlds across the ocean, to prevent their encroachment into the corporeal world. The ghosts were not co-operating; he too didn't know when he would be able to return to the bamboo forest. Phichit apologised to Yuri, and Mari, on their behalf. Yuri gave a telling, quiet nod, but smiled genuinely when Phichit reiterated that both were well, and looking forward to seeing him just as much as he looked forward to seeing them.

Mari wondered to herself... what a strange life it was, to be a fairy, to have lived so long they didn't remember when they first came into being, to hunt dragons and ghosts... and raise a baby boy to adulthood. Their time with Yuri was a blink of an eye for them, yet... it must have been a strange time for them, doing something that was perhaps so normal for anyone else. Had they missed their lives of adventure, or did they now miss their life of domesticity with her brother? And as for the last remaining, the Fairy of Siam, who had always doted on Yuri even more than the others, he was still here... but for how long? Mari knew that he wouldn't be able to stay the course either, right until Yuri's twenty-first birthday. Would the others return so he could go and fulfil his other duties, or did they have some other plan? He didn't say, but he looked heartbroken when he admitted that he was running out of time.

When the worst of the summer heat was beginning to wane, Mari bid Yuri to put on his skates for her, and they went out to the lake.

She still couldn't wrap her head around the never-melting ice that steamed in the sun. But then, it was strange staring across and seeing her brother as he was now. She could remember, vividly and with great fondness, the day she gifted him one of Victor's old pair of skates. Now, Yuri was taller than her by a couple of inches, and no longer in hand-me-down skates.

As Yuri got older, and Victor... changed, it became clear that Yuri needed his own skates, ones that were custom-made for him. His part-time job after school at the bookshop had paid for a trip with Phichit to the border to have skates properly fitted for him. His skating since then had been... hmm.

Mari wasn't sure what exactly was different. She was aware that the skating Yuri showed her was a variant of how he liked to skate, a performance tailored to suit his comfort zone with her; it was something that Phichit had observed many years ago, that Yuri skated very differently when he thought no one was watching. But Yuri hadn't been able to hide that since he had started  _earning_ his skates, his passion for it had become even more marked. Perhaps it was the peak of all his years of ballet training with his favourite teacher, perhaps it was adulthood beckoning - not beckoning anymore really; Yuri had a full-time job, he  _was_ an adult now - or maybe... well, who knows.

Mari thought of the years spent memorising Victor's letters and notes about his own skating lessons to pass on (it would have been too dangerous to take his actual letters, how would she explain it if anything happened and they were found?). She thought of all the times Yuri went out on to the ice to put it all into practice, falling repeatedly when he tried the variations of jumps and spins. She thought of the first time he showed her a complete routine, all wondrous grace, his skates slicing confidently to keep him upright despite the complexity of his every step, sweat glistening on his forehead with concentration, and the smile that would blossom when he got sections right, and the frown when he flubbed a jump and pushed back up again swiftly.

Even then... she could swear she could hear the music that only really existed in Yuri's head.

"I came up with a new piece," Yuri said when he came back from warming up, blushing slightly, avoiding her eyes... and then he looked at her, brow furrowed with shy nerves. "Will you watch?"

Mari nodded, and eagerly sat down on the lake's banks, crossing her legs comfortably. Yuri pushed off the bank and skated to the centre. He took a deep breath, slowly and calmly exhaled, and...

... And took Mari's breath away.

She hadn't been sure about this, had thought perhaps not to say anything. Now, seeing Yuri skate to perfection, she was certain.

"That was incredible," she breathed as Yuri came back, panting with exertion. He grinned automatically, forgetting to be shy, for once certain that he'd done right. He deserved to always, but on this occasion... amazing. "Yuri...?"

Her brother sat next to her on the bank, his skates hanging over the ice to not get grass in the blades. Mari handed his glasses back to him, and he took another gulp of air before looking across at her, unable to speak just yet but his attention all hers for her question.

"Have... have you thought of showing anyone else your skating?"

Yuri nearly choked on his own breath. Mari's hands stretched out instinctively, worried but he shook his head; he was alright. "I... not... not really?" Mari tilted her head, intrigued. That wasn't exactly a 'no'. "Mariko, my teacher, she offered to get me spots at ballet recitals before... and I've danced for festivals in town before." She knew; the Katsukis had come specially for his first Winter Solstice performance; he'd been extremely nervous, but once he started dancing he'd forgotten he even had an audience. Mari had managed to see a few others, for the autumnal parade that came after the harvest and seen Yuri dance for the bonfires. But he'd never shown anyone his skating; his friends couldn't come into the forest, Mari doubted they even knew that he skated, the explanation that would be required too risky. "But not... not skating, no..."

"... Would you like to?"

Yuri's eyes widened. "H- _How_...?"

Mari smiled and took out the piece of paper that had been in her pocket all day. "There's an exhibition in Piter in December, as part of the Yule festival. They're looking for amateur skaters to perform from across the lands. It's not paid, and you have to audition, but... it's an opportunity to do what you love doing."

She handed the leaflet to the Yuri, who stared at it in wonder. Oh Brother... Mari smiled fondly at him. Had he never thought this possible? Her smile vanished instantly as she noticed Yuri's hands shaking, saw a tear drip onto the leaflet. This time her hands found his shoulders and hung on, worried, until she realised... oh, silly boy.

She'd just made one of his dreams come true.

* * *

XVII

* * *

It was raining heavily. A sign perhaps.

Victor sat in his bedroom window, looking straight out into the misty grey, with Makkachin asleep at his feet on the wide sill. Definitely a sign. If the dog wasn't up for anything today, then Victor wasn't going to force him out in this weather.

Besides... he needed to stop anyway.

Victor's heart twisted in his chest. He hated telling himself he had to stop, that he had to forget...

Ordinarily Victor didn't mind days like this. He liked how transformative the rain was, how it made nature smell so much more powerfully, how it changed the colours of everything. He told Lady Mari that once, so she gifted him a Hasetsan umbrella, and the two had walked together under it in the gardens, admiring the vividness of the roses. But it was too heavy for that - lightning exploded across the sky, the thunder almost immediately following and rolling on past the palace, the echo coming back. It reminded Victor of his place in the world; he might be a lord in the making, a man with considerable authority over others by the lottery of his birth, but he was nothing to this storm, no more than anyone else. Lightning could strike anywhere, anyone.

Victor liked these reminders to be humble. He didn't like having dominion over others. In particular, he'd found recently that he didn't like how some used their dominion. Victor looked away from the rain to his bed, to the boy - man - sleeping there, who he was effectively guarding over.

Christophe slept like a foetus. Normally, Victor knew from their many nights bunking at the lodge in the mountains during their school days, Christophe slept like a starfish, his long limbs stretched out luxuriously. But recently he had been barely sleeping at all, and when he did he curled up protectively, his body as tight as possible. The previous evening Victor had insisted that Christophe stop hiding in his room and instead to hide in his, where at least he had company, a guard even. There, Christophe did something Victor had never seen him do before; he sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

Victor had slept on the sofa by the fire with Makkachin in his arms, and let his friend pass out on his bed, and crept about him all through the long, lonely morning.

Victor was nineteen, Christophe seventeen. A month ago, whilst Christophe went back to his parents' for what he called a 'progress report' (hardly a visit, his relationship with his parents had always been non-existent), something... something terrible happened.

It had been an ordinary day for Victor. His father had started including him in his normal meetings, even though he was not expected to contribute much. Yakov always listened to Victor when he did have something to say, listened fairly and gave feedback that never made Victor feel like he should never have said a thing, even if the advisors sometimes rolled their eyes or looked to each other with alarm (the latter was usually when Victor wanted to use more clan funds for a public project). During such a meeting a servant politely knocked on the door and entered to hand Victor a letter.

_Victor, my parents have discovered Masumi and I. Please, help us. Chris_

It was barely a letter, just a line scribbled down as quickly as possible before being sealed and squeezed into the leg of a carrier pigeon and sent on its way. Victor stood so quickly his chair fell backwards behind him, staring aghast at the single line.

"V-Victor...?" His father reached out, the look of irritation at the interruption swiftly being replaced with concern at the pallor of Victor's face.

"I-I..."  _Damnit_ , Victor thought. He looked about the room, at all the men - he always thought of Lady Mari whenever he came in here, of how she, or someone like her, ought to be there too - who would have no concern for the heir of Lord Giacometti beyond their own advantage. And there was no advantage for them in being sympathetic to a homosexual affair.

Yakov followed Victor's uneasy gaze, and rose himself. "Gentlemen," and he gave a pause to let the rest of the table rise to their feet as protocol dictated. "Excuse my son and I for just a moment." And he took his son by his arm gently and led the way to his adjacent study. "Victor?"

For a horrific moment, Victor was torn. Just as he couldn't tell the advisors, he couldn't -

Yakov gently plucked the letter from Victor's hand unthinkingly before his son could even think to stop him. "No -!" Too late. Yakov read the line, blinked over it, and handed the letter back to his son. The two stood in silence for a long, terrible minute as Victor tried and failed to read his father's face. "Papa..."

Yakov visibly flinched at the term, and whatever he had been thinking... he changed his mind. He cleared his throat, and stared up at his son. "I take it that 'Masumi' is not a... maid in the Giacometti household."

Victor flinched too, but with surprise. His father... didn't sound angry. Or disgusted. Or... anything. He could have been talking about trade routes again like they had been only a minute ago. "I..." Yakov tilted his head, pointedly.  _Tell me the truth, my boy_. "No... no, he's not."

"Who is he then?" Yakov asked frankly.

Victor's chest seized. "He's... he's the son of the ambassador to Hasetsu in Turicum."

"I see." Yakov pursed his lips thoughtfully, his mind still masked carefully. "Tell me about him. Is he of age?"

Victor blinked. This... was not how he thought this conversation was going to go. "Yes... yes, he's... he's Chris' age, he's seventeen."

"And they're..." Yakov trailed off, evidently at the limit of his comfort zone. "How long have they been..." And he looked to Victor pointedly to finish that sentence as appropriate.

Victor had to think for a moment. Would the truth help or hinder? "They've been together for a year. They met last summer, before Christophe came here to study." He wondered whether or not to say that Christophe loved Masumi, even if he wasn't prepared to admit it, that the two lovers wrote to each other frequently. That Christophe had shown Victor some of Masumi's letters, had done so shyly, with great vulnerability, even though the letters were filled with humour, longing, and affection.

"Huh. I did wonder why Lord Christophe came here so late," Yakov commented. Victor's eyes widened, not sure what to make of it at all. Yakov frowned at a stray thought, and gestured for Victor to hand him back the note, and narrowed his eyes on the end. Victor hesitantly peered over, trying to figure out what his father was so taken by.

_Victor, my parents have discovered Masumi and I. Please, help us. Chris_

_... Please, help us..._

_... help us..._

_..._ us _..._

Yakov folded the note carefully and handed it back to Victor with another pointed look.  _Don't let anyone see this_. Victor shoved the letter into his breast pocket, and -

"Will Makkachin be able to get you to Turicum?" Victor stared at his father, astonished. "It's the fastest way, your... dog. Help however you can, do what you think is right."

Victor stared at his father for a moment longer, feeling...  _the relief_. Oh, the relief. His eyes watered with it. Papa... Yakov gave a small smile, then nodded towards the door.  _Go_.

Victor practically sprinted away. As it turned out, Makkachin could get him to Turicum, just by asking him if he could take him to Chris; the dog expanded, lifted his giant nose up to the sky and sniffed, and panted happily. He thought of his friend as he flew, trying to plan what in the world he was going to do, what he was going to say, constantly looping round to remembering how Chris told him, in fits of laughter in front of the fire in his room, that Makkachin could turn invisible whenever he flew, something Victor had never been aware of. He had to land discreetly in the wood behind Turicum Castle, and approached the gates on foot with Makkachin shrunk back down at his heels, calling at the gatekeeper that he was Lord Victor Feltsman, son of Lord Yakov Feltsman, and to let him in immediately. He did not need to waste his time with the questions of the guards - all perfectly valid; how did you get here, where is your horse or carriage sir? - and demanded to be taken to his friend.

"Ah... Lord Christophe is... umm..."

Was under arrest in his own chambers, was the answer the guard was reluctant to say.

A good thing then, that Victor had visited before and remembered just about where Christophe's chambers were. He marched through, the guards hesitating too long over whether or not to stop the heir of Lord Feltsman, and even if he didn't remember exactly which door it was, the pair of guards outside marked it out. "Unlock the door, please, I'm going inside to see my friend."

"Err..."

Again, too slow. Victor ducked under the guard's arm, remembering his training with the soldiers in Piter, and grabbed the loop of keys that were on full view, yanked them so hard the stitching that held them to the guard's belt gave, and Victor was at the door, blithely ignoring the guards demanding that he cease. He found the right key, unlocked the door, swung them open, marched in, and shut them behind himself and Makkachin. Then he locked it again.

"V-Victor...?"

He turned, and saw his friend rise from his desk, looking a scared mess. Victor smiled, relieved. "Hello. You wrote for me?"

The two stared at each other, until finally Chris gave a choked laugh and threw himself into his friend's embrace, both crying and laughing. Victor let him for a minute, hugging him back, before pulling back and leading his friend to sit on the couch by the fire. "Tell me what happened, Chris."

Chris told him everything. That he and Masumi's affair had grown in intimacy, that one night they fell asleep in bed, tangled in the sheets together, instead of Masumi sneaking back to his own room before the chamber maid came in the morning to light the fire. She, young, naive, had shrieked in shock at the sight of the two young men naked in each other's arms, and the noise had brought others along. By breakfast, Lord and Lady Giacometti knew, and guards came to tear Masumi from Christophe's protective arms - the couple hadn't known what to do, so they stayed together, thinking to weather whatever storm came - and taken him away, and told Christophe he was to stay in his rooms.

"How did you get your letter out?" Victor asked, rubbing his friend's back.

Christophe grinned with tear-stained cheeks. "I climbed out the window and snuck out to the aviary. They caught me there, escorted me back here. They've locked the window now, I don't think they thought I would... anyway." Christophe's grin dissolved. "I... I don't know where Masumi is... they got that poor maid to bring me my meals - she was mortified, she apologised every time she came, she didn't mean for any of this to happen - but... she doesn't know what's going on and they won't tell me anything. I haven't even seen my parents -"

There was a knock at the door, and the handle turned uselessly. Then a greasy voice - Victor knew that tone, courtiers used it to fake their loyalty - called through the door, welcoming Lord Victor to Turicum Castle, and requesting his presence on behalf of Lord Giacometti in the drawing room.

Victor and Christophe shared a look.

"Well... let's go see them now then."

Victor had never liked Lord and Lady Giacometti, even before he and Christophe became friends at school. When he was a young child at his mother's funeral he had thought they were lying when they gave him their commiserations, and later thought them both to be vain and vacuous. Christophe had likened his father to an ornament, and much of his observations over the last few years with his father confirmed it; the Giacometti lands were actually run by Lord Giacometti's advisors, for good or ill. An off-hand comment from his father told Victor that perhaps it was for the best, that he had little objection to who he actually dealt with when he discussed business matters with Turicum.

So Victor was surprised for a second to find only Lord and Lady Giacometti in the drawing room, and not a gathering of accompanying advisors to speak on their behalf. He scoffed silently in his own head; the advisors were keeping their hands clean of all of this. That didn't do him any favours however.

Victor had never had to do anything like this before. He didn't have the faintest idea what to do. So he thought of his father, of how he had sent him with his blessing, and held his head up high.

"Victor, how good to see you," Lord Giacometti simpered, ignoring the sight of his son completely.

Deliberately, Victor kept silent. Ordinarily he didn't care for ceremony, found it uncomfortable when people referred to him as 'Lord', but in this instance it made him bristle, catching the intended put-down. Then he kept silent because he was actually trying to remember Lord Giacometti's first name... it was something that had made him laugh as a child... oh yes... "Why, thank you... Hubert."

Lord Giacometti's face twitched with irritation, caught. Victor, tall and standing straight, did his best not to smirk. Now was not the time to be humble. Now was a time to utilise his title for all it was worth.

"We... we were not expecting you, err... my lord," Lady - Victor couldn't remember her first name at all, wasn't sure if anyone had ever even told him what it was - Giacometti said with unease, glancing between her husband and the young man standing in front of Christophe protectively.

Victor smiled charmingly, playing along now that at least one person was being properly deferential. "My apologies, Lady Giacometti. Your son invited me on the spur of the moment, there was no time to alert you to my coming."

"I see," Lady Giacometti said awkwardly, her smile - goodness, she was wearing  _so_ much make-up, her smile might as well have been literally painted on - so false and uneven it was impossible to not be unaware of the power balance out of kilter. "And will you be staying long, my lord?"

"Not long, no, my lady. A flying visit, as it were." Victor raised his head up a little higher, and looked down at the pair before him. "Christophe and I will be leaving, today most likely, with a friend of ours."

Both Lord and Lady Giacometti flinched, and the former finally acknowledged his son with a glare. Victor kept steady, did his best not to react to the disgust in that look, and sent as much strength as he could to his friend behind him. Before they left Christophe's chambers he made his friend make himself look presentable, and Victor was glad they hadn't come here with Chris' shirt not tucked into his trousers and his hair a mess from dragging his fingers through it nervously. A minor shield in this moment.

" _Friend_..."

Lady Giacometti looked away. Victor narrowed his eyes at Lord Giacometti, wanting desperately to turn and check on his friend but unwilling to show his back.

Then something that absolutely no one was expecting happened. Again.

"You can't go in there, my lady, he's -"

Much like Victor had been ignoring what people told him to do since he arrived, Lady Katsuki Mari did exactly the same, and swept right into the drawing room, slamming both doors open as she came in, flanked by two Hasetsan Ninjas. Everyone jumped out of their skin, and this time Victor turned, staring in shock, and then he burst into a quick grin. Lady Mari could give him nothing but the faintest flicker of an answering smile before staring down at her quarry, and marched into the room.

"Lord Giacometti, my father has sent me on an urgent mission," she said, ignoring any attempt at civility. There would be no apology for intruding, nor for coming without any invitation at all, and no pretending that she was here on pleasant business and therefore no need for pleasantries. "The Katsuki clan understand that at this moment, Major Kubo and his family are under arrest. What is the charge?"

Startled, Lord Giacometti was on his feet when Victor turned back, and he almost laughed. He'd forgotten how small the man was, how _unlike_ his son he was. And he learnt right there and then just how spineless he was. "L-Lady M-"

"The charge, sir," Mari said cuttingly. She stood at Victor's side, also shielding Christophe, and even though she was the shortest in the room, absolutely no one dared cross her, not even this fool of a man before her. "What is it? It must be severe, for guards to trespass into the Katsuki embassy and place my father's ambassador under house arrest."

Victor fought hard against the smirk on his face as he saw the colour drain from Lord Giacometti's face. Behind them, Christophe took an uneasy step forward. "They... they did what?" He said quietly, his tone telling. Even Chris knew just how badly Lord Giacometti had messed up. The sovereignty of embassies was absolute, every clan agreement insistent upon it. Lord Yakov would never dream of marching into the embassies in Piter for instance; he sent requests for invitations when he needed, that was the protocol. He sent his representatives always with the explicit understanding that their security was assured. To breach that was to breach trust between the clans.

Lord Giacometti, and his wife, finally displayed some sense. Neither of them spoke for a moment, though the lord was clearly trying to think of  _something_ ,  _anything_ that would get him out of this mess that he had dived into. "My... my Lady Mari, I -"

Leather creaked loudly and ominously. Victor looked quickly over his shoulder, and saw one of the Hasetsan Ninjas grip the hilt of his sword. There was a taut moment as Lord Giacometti visibly struggled to figure out his offence, until the other guard spoke up through his mask. "Lady Katsuki is here as a representative of her father, Lord Katsuki Toshiya. She should be addressed accordingly."

Lady Giacometti gulped from the couch, and even Victor felt his ribs tighten from the warning. Duly noted. Out of the corner of his eye, the corner of Mari's mouth twitched.

Lord Giacometti raised his hands placatingly, nodding nervously to show he'd understood the warning. "Ah, my apologies Lady... Lady Katsuki, I meant no offence, I... ah!" He spotted his own guards at the door, their own hands at their swords, their eyes equally wild as they tried to get their heads around the situation. "Release Major Kubo and -"

"Too late, my lord," Lady Katsuki interrupted. "He's dead."

Victor whipped his head round to her, aghast. "What...?"

Mari glanced at him briefly before gripping Lord Giacometti in her eagle stare again. "I have just come from the embassy. He and his wife committed suicide, apparently unable to bear the dishonour to their name from the arrest. So I'll ask,  _again_ , what was the charge against them?"

Lord Giacometti stared at her stupidly. "I... what...?" Mari did not answer, or repeat herself. She had asked enough times, and her glare said as much. Lord Giacometti shrank under her glare, and forced out some words quietly. "Their... their son..."

"Ah, yes," Mari pounced. "Their son, Masumi. Where is he? We did not find him at the embassy with his parents."

Lord Giacometti gulped. His wife stared in absolute horror at Lady Mari, as though she was looking upon a demon, something she had never seen before. No, indeed, there was no one like Lady Katsuki Mari. "He... he's here..."

Mari raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with this vague answer. "'Here'? At the castle? Where?" Her tone turned to steel. "Is he alive?"

Lord Giacometti nearly stumbled to get his answer out this time. "Yes! He's... he's in the... the dungeon."

Lady Katsuki squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, as though drawing all the oxygen from the room to herself. "Lord Giacometti," she said slowly, clearly, and without compromise. "You will release my ambassador's son to  _me_." She did not need to say the ' _now_ '. Nor that she didn't give a damn about any charges. Kubo Masumi held the same immunities of his father; he answered to the Katsuki clan, and no one else.

Lord Giacometti struggled for a long moment, as though finally he had reached the limit of being told what to do by the daughter of another clan, but unable to get himself out of the situation in any way resembling dignity. The ninja had yet to take his hand off his sword's hilt. Lord Giacometti finally gave a reluctant nod and sent a glance to the guards outside again. One of them accepted the silent order, and left.

Lady Mari immediately took ownership again of the resulting silence. "I very much hope, my lord, that Kubo Masumi is in good health..." Lord Giacometti blanched, and Christophe trembled behind Victor. "Whilst we wait however...  _you still haven't answered my question_. My father, Lord Toshiya, sent me to find out what offence was so grave that the sovereignty of his embassy was violated, what dishonour was so great that he has lost his ambassador and his ambassador's wife, that he should have to send me here to recover his citizens, or citi _zen_ , it appears. As yet, my lord, you still have not answered my father's queries."

As though knowing that there really wasn't a way out, Lord Giacometti switched to his last remaining option; blame. He looked up to glare at his son, but, finding both Victor and Mari in the way, had to direct his ire into the carpet. "He was caught...  _fornicating_... with my... with my  _heir_..."

Christophe flinched, and disgust rolled through Victor's belly. He thought of his father again, how measured Yakov had been, how... how without even showing it in his face, he had shown something resembling sympathy. He had let Victor go to help when someone in need had asked. Love washed away the disgust for a moment.

"I see."

Victor watched as Mari suddenly turned and faced Christophe. Her eyes swept quickly over the young lord, checking to see if he was alright, and she gave a nod as though she was pleased with her findings. Then, concise but gentle...

"My lord, am I to understand from this that you and Kubo Masumi have been intimate with each other?"

Christophe took a step back, glancing nervously between his only allies in the room. Victor glanced down at Mari next to him, and back up at his friend, and willed him to _trust her_. Christophe shook as he answered, more scared than he had ever been in his life, save only a few days ago. "Y-Yes..."

Mari nodded, accepting the answer. "Consensually? Kubo did not force himself on you?"

"No!" Christophe took the step back, anger flaring immediately at the very idea.

Mari nodded again, accepted that too. "Good. Are you a married man?"

Christophe started, confused. "I... no."

"Are you betrothed or engaged to be married?"

"N-no."

"Do you have any children, illegitimate or otherwise, from this or any other liaison?"

Christophe looked like he dearly wanted to scoff. "No."

"And do you consider Kubo Masumi to have made any offence towards you?"

As Christophe gave his firm answer, Victor allowed himself to smile. Daftly, he felt like he was being saved too. " _No_."

Lady Katsuki nodded deeply, a bow really. "Thank you for your candor, my lord." Then she turned back to Lord Giacometti, and transformed again. "There appears to be no offence made, my lord, by Kubo to your son. Has he committed any other offence that my father needs to be aware of?"

Lord Giacometti finally glared at her, realising he'd been outmanoeuvred. Victor narrowed his eyes, reading the things that the lord dearly wanted to say, but wise enough not to. Lord Giacometti finally shook his head.

"Very well. Do you have any further business with Kubo that will delay his departure in my safe-keeping?"

Lord Giacometti's fists shook at his side, and he was about to shake his head, when he saw... everyone turned as the guard brought - dragged - Masumi to the door, and Victor realised why Lord Giacometti had froze.

Victor had never met Masumi before. There was no excuse to have the son of the Katsuki ambassador to the Giacomettis brought to Piter. But Chris had described him so vividly that Victor wasn't surprised to see that Masumi wasn't too far from what he had imagined. Taller than all of them, a fusion of East and West from his father and mother respectively, Victor could see perfectly why Chris had liked him the moment he laid eyes on him. Except... he had to imagine what Masumi normally looked like.

"Mass..." Christophe stepped forward. Masumi looked up, saw his lover, gave a throaty cry and wrenched himself out of the guard's hold and collapsed into his lover's waiting arms, and the young man whimpered pitifully as Chris held him tightly, lowering him to his knees on the plush carpet. One of his eyes was a purple mess, his opposite cheek equally dark, lips broken. Christophe had once described Masumi's hair as long and voluminous... it was almost matted and messy enough to conceal that chunks of it had been cut off. He held an arm awkwardly to his chest, and his breathing was tight, as though he was in constant pain. He had walked in with a limp, and his clothes were blatantly whatever he'd been seized in, his shirt torn and scabbed with dark stains.

The poor young man smelt terrible, of fear and neglect. Victor's nose rebelled against it, but he deliberately didn't take his eyes off him. He would not lower himself to Lord Giacometti's standard and look away.

Mari didn't look away either. For a moment she looked genuinely shocked, the mask briefly off, and then it was back on again. She swept her own cloak off her shoulders, stepped forward and knelt at the two lovers' sides and wrapped it round the pair of them. Masumi, looking up at her from Chris' hold, started to cry, as though the act of kindness, the shield she'd just offered, was too much for him to handle. She stood, and glared at Lord Giacometti with the same disgust he had recently tried to aim at his son.

"My lord..." Victor looked away then too, to add force to her glare. Lord Giacometti stammered, unable to say or do much else. "A crime has clearly been committed to one of my citizens."

"N-No, I-I..." Victor heard the creak of leather again, this time twice over. "It... it wasn't... I..." The lord cast around wildly, stared beggingly for help at his wife, who offered nothing. Then he clearly thought of something. "Guard! Where's the jail keeper?! Bring him here, now!" If his voice hadn't been shaking so much, he might have sounded authoritative. He didn't; he sounded desperate.

As the same guard ran off back to the dungeon, the ninja that had spoken earlier broke rank and knelt next to Chris and Masumi, a careful distance away but level. "Kubo-san..."

Victor turned to see Masumi slowly raise his head from Chris' shoulder, watched tears stream down both their faces. "S-Sir, I..."

The ninja raised a gloved hand and lowered his head, silently conveying that the 'sir' was not necessary, nor the apology that Masumi was about to give. "Kubo-san, your injuries... who did this to you?"

Masumi screwed his face up, terrified, fresh tears pouring. "P-Please..."  _Please don't make it worse_...

"It's alright," Lady Mari's gentle voice said, approaching and kneeling at a distance too. Masumi sobbed at the sight of her again, knowing all too well who she was. "You are _innocent_ , and you are _safe_. Do you understand?"

Behind her, Lord Giacometti made a strange noise of disgust, as though he disagreed with the notion of Masumi's innocence. Victor threw a warning glare back at him -  _you were better off silent_ \- and then back to see Masumi glancing between Lord Giacometti and Mari, confused. Then he looked at his lover as Chris whispered to him, and Masumi gave a sob as whatever Chris said cut through, and he clung back to him with relief. Victor's heart broke for them both as Chris rocked Masumi in his arms for a moment, as though it was just the two of them in a bubble for all he cared. Then, slowly, Masumi pulled back, clinging to Chris' jacket desperately. "The... the jai-jailer... he -"

\- Came in, flanked by the escorting guard, looking nervous at how many people were in the room, but otherwise unperturbed. The jail keeper glanced briefly at Masumi in Chris' arms, looked thoroughly indifferent, and then looked up at Lord Giacometti and knelt respectfully. "You summoned me, my lord?"

For a moment, everyone just stared at this man, at his audacity. The jail keeper was middle-aged, built like an oak tree trunk, and impossible to pick from a crowd. A thoroughly insignificant man in the scheme of things, and yet... the evidence of his cruelty was barely a few feet away.

Lady Mari, who still held total command of the situation, spoke. "My lord, I presume from your summoning, that I have your permission to seek and claim justice. Am I right?"

A chill went down Victor's back. All eyes moved to Lord Giacometti, and Victor wondered... just how gutless this man was. Was he about to throw this man, guilty as he undoubtedly was, over?

Yes, apparently. With Lord Giacometti's nod, the two ninjas moved to flank the jail keeper on his knees, and grabbed his shoulders to keep them there. Horrified, everyone watched as one of them spoke again, his mouth covered still by the ninjas cowl.

In a concise minute, Victor learnt swiftly the jail keeper's name, that yes he was the keeper of the dungeons at the castle and yes, Kubo Masumi was brought to his care a few days ago. It took a few more minutes, as the jail keeper learned that he had neither power or friend in this room, and that yes, he was the one who beat Masumi, who offered no harm at all, that yes, the bruises on his own knuckles were from hitting Masumi's face, and yes he was the one who even shorn Masumi's hair. Victor wondered if he really wasn't ordered by anyone to do so... even though he watched Lord Giacometti's face as the jail keeper answered, there was nothing revealing there.

"Did you do any other harm to this man?" Mari cut in, her voice deathly cold.

The jail keeper's eyes widened as he caught her meaning and he shook his head emphatically. Chris gently whispered to Masumi in his arms, and Victor saw the confused look on Masumi's face, saw him shook his head with misplaced relief. Victor swallowed, his own knuckles white and nails biting into his palms. That was something, at least.

Mari turned back to Lord Giacometti. "My lord, we have a confession, heard by your own ears, to the injuries made to my citizen. On behalf of my father, Lord Katsuki Toshiya, may I dole out punishment as fitting for a crime against a Katsuki civilian?"

Even Victor felt horrified. Lord Giacometti stammered. "Wha... n-now, here?"

Mari blinked, unsympathetic. "Yes, my lord. You are my witness to this man's confession to his crime. The alternative is to arrest him and take him to the embassy. Here will be more transparent, wouldn't you agree?"

Victor wondered whether he ought to speak up. But... he looked down at Masumi, at Chris who was stroking his ruined hair. Anything he thought to say died in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Giacometti slowly nod his head, unsure whether he ought to. "I... yes... umm... go ahead..."

Lady Katsuki nodded in acceptance, and turned to her ninjas and passed the nod over.

In a second, one grabbed the jail keeper's bloodied hand by the wrist, and the other took a step back, unsheathed his sword and -

Victor flinched hard as the jail keeper screamed, and  _something_ fell heavily to the floor. Lady Giacometti screeched and scrambled out of her seat, finally unfrozen, falling over the back of the couch. And undignified wince came out of Lord Giacometti, and Chris clutched Masumi closer to him, and then helped him to his feet and kept Masumi's face tucked into his shoulder as he walked them out, past the screaming jail keeper clutching his empty wrist and the guards who were more concerned with the ninja who had yet to re-sheath his sword.

"Yes, I think we're done here," Mari's voice quietly said. Victor looked to her, and saw straight through her. The mask was cracking; she didn't like this any more than he did.

The ninjas let the jail keeper go, and one picked up the hand from the floor and wrapped it swiftly in a sack. They returned to her side, ready to leave when she was. She cast one final look at Lord Giacometti. He cowered under her glare.

For a moment, Victor thought...  _you brought this on_ _yourself. If it had been a girl, you would have hushed it all up, done nothing. This was your choice, to imprison your son, to act against Masumi's family. If you had done nothing, none of this would have happened._

"My father has bid me to notify you that we will be quitting the Katsuki embassy. Please inform your government that an embargo has been placed on all Katsuki exports to your lands until such time that we are assured that our treaties can be upheld. We will expect a representative in Hasetsu to that effect." She cast a look at Lady Giacometti, where she was cowering behind the couch. "My lady, my lord... good day to you."

And she turned her back, her business done, and looked to Victor to invite him silently to follow.

They left together.

"We need to get Kubo-san to the embassy," Mari whispered to Victor as they came to the hall. The Giacometti guards parted for them, staring at the ninjas as they walked past, one with a bloody sack in his hand, none of them daring. "We have a doctor there. After... may we leave for Piter, will your father accept us all? It's closer to the Feltsman border, and we ought to be gone before nightfall."

Victor nodded.  _Do what you think is right_. "Yes, Father will let us in."

Mari sighed with relief. "Good. Thank you." She caught sight of Chris and Masumi ahead, saw the guards who had surrounded them, unsure whether to let them leave, scatter at the sight of the ninjas. "Lord Christophe can't stay here..."

"I know. He's coming back with me," Victor said, then frowned. He was speaking  _for_ Chris, and he had learnt years ago not to. "Well... he better damn well come back with me, I'm not leaving without him."

Mari smiled at that, despite everything. "Good. We'll..." She looked sad for a moment, knowing. "We'll figure out Masumi's fate later. Let's get him safe first... get his parents out too." Victor frowned, hoping for a moment, but - "They deserve to be buried back home."

The last thing they said to each other, and they forget which of them said it, was... "This didn't have to happen."

That had all been a few months ago. It turned out that Lady Mari had ridden at break-neck speed with a small army of ninjas, all waiting outside the castle's gates after the ambassador managed to send word of their arrest; it must have been one of the last things he did, begging for Lord Toshiya's forgiveness, and assistance for his son. They got Masumi to the house belonging to the embassy, where Chris helped him to the bath house whilst the Hasetsan doctor bandaged and sedated him enough for the long journey to the border, and then they all carried on to Piter where Lord Yakov granted Masumi asylum.

But before they left Turicum Castle...

"Don't  _ever_ come back here," Lord Giacometti hissed as Christophe passed with a small bag of his belongings - mostly his letters, which he kept with him always, his skates. He took nothing that would be of any worth to his parents. Chris stopped, and stared at his father's face, at the fury of being humiliated, at the disgust... "I have  _no_ son," the lord spat.

Christophe barely flinched. Then he raised his head, looking tired and... dignified. "No, you don't."

They left together.

Since then, Masumi had stayed at the palace in Piter, recovering from his broken ribs, his broken leg. Christophe barely left his side, uncaring of what people thought. And people thought plenty... there was no earthly way of making sure that no one ever heard about what happened, though most of the rumours were mostly fiction. What was true was that trade between the Giacometti lands and the Katsuki lands had faltered, to the Giacometti's disadvantage; the Katsuki lands exported produce, the Giacometti's service. Mari wrote to say that a representative of the Giacometti government did indeed appear in Hasetsu and begged for Lord Toshiya's forgiveness for the incident, with profuse assurances that such violences and violations would never happen again.

And eventually, Lady Mari came back to Piter with her own apologies.

Masumi couldn't stay in Piter. The reality was that he was just an ambassador's son, there was no purpose to be served by him being in Piter. Masumi was a smart young man; he'd seen it coming, was grateful for the months that Lord Yakov gave him sanctuary, but... he didn't want to be a charity case, one that had... one that had seduced Lord Giacometti's heir into being disowned. But if Lord Toshiya still saw fit to employ the last of the Kubo family, then... at least he had something. He could go home. Besides...

"You know that your father will take you back eventually," Masumi pointed out, tears streaming down his face. Even as Chris shook his head he nodded. "You know he will. He'll have to; who else is he to pass the leadership to? Or if he doesn't, you know that his advisors will."

Indeed, an advisor had already discreetly come to Piter, to offer the Turicum council's apologies for not intervening in Lord Giacometti's mad decisions, and to offer support such as they could. Lord Yakov as well was no fool; he'd offered to house Christophe indefinitely, until such time as he was needed back in Turicum. Cynically, there was great advantage for providing a haven to even the disavowed heir of a neighbouring clan, particularly a clan now begging for favour, but...

Victor counted his blessings. He suspected that even if there had been no advantage, Yakov would have done it anyway. For his son.

Mari stayed for a couple of weeks, ostensibly to catch up with her friends, and for the most part she and Victor kept each other company. Victor knew that she was delaying so that Christophe could say goodbye. After this... who knew when he would see Masumi again...  _if_ he would ever see him again...

So they left the two lovers to what time they had left, and enjoyed the bond that had sprung from the experience, both of them glad that the other was there.

"Mari... the punishment for the jailer..."

Mari paled. "... Barbaric... wasn't it?" It wasn't really a question. Victor could only nod. What that man had done to Masumi was terrible, but... Victor had never witnessed anything like it. Mari slowly raised her head, looking... old. "It's... it's what the people expect. A man who terrorises another, one who has done no harm to him, owes to justice the tool or tools that he used to terrorise. If you beat a man, you will lose your fist. Cower a man with your words to such a terrible degree, lose your tongue. Take someone's innocence..." She clenched her jaw. "... Your very life force is forfeit."

The two sat in silence together for a moment, both mulling it over. Then, Mari said quietly, "it's not a perfect system, by any means. But... it's difficult, to install a practical alternative. It would take great conviction, and time. And besides... we're talking about correcting wrongs. Too late for that. It would never be perfect, I think." She sighed. "Take the case of the jailer even. For all we know, maybe he was ordered by Lord Giacometti to beat Masumi - I doubt the jailer cared enormously for Masumi's pretty face and hair - but... we'll never know. Either way, the jailer deliberately set out to cause pain to someone who had never hurt him at all; you won't catch me even  _trying_ to feel sympathetic. But some... some don't go looking for trouble, trouble finds them. In Hasetsu, we try to be merciful, if mercy is deserving."

Victor nodded, not disagreeing on any particular point. It was just that... violence begets violence, as the saying goes. Punishers should be careful to not be too eager to dole it out. "It... it makes me think of... of  _him_."

He felt Mari's eyes burn into him. She knew exactly who he was talking about. "Victor..." He looked up to see she'd even leant in, desperate to convey what she was about to say. "Don't go looking for vengeance because you feel like that's what you  _ought_ to do. Please..." She reached out and took his hand gently. "If you  _need_ it, if you cannot live without it, I'll... I'll help you get it. But... please don't go looking for violence for violence's sake, even for... even for what he took from you."

Somewhere inside, something sighed with relief. Victor couldn't help but feel touched that Mari wanted to save him from barbarism. He knew a part of him would always wonder if he ought to have gone looking for his own justice, but... the honest fact was that really, he just didn't want to have anything more to do with, for it to be done and over, left in the past and not dragged through the present and future.

He nodded, and smiled as Mari looked immensely relieved. Then she frowned, and squeezed his hand. "I... I did some digging. If it's of any comfort, I think the powers that be got you some justice, in its own way..." Victor frowned, not understanding that at all. "One of the ninjas found him, the stable boy..." She paused, trying to read in Victor's face whether he really wanted to know. He frowned for a moment, questioning himself... did he want to know?

 _Yes. So long as he's as far away from here as possible_.

"He ended up in a brothel," Mari said quietly, when Victor finally nodded. "He's... got some interesting clients. It seems he has a taste for... being punished."

Victor stared at her, until finally the penny dropped. He sat back, considered it. Then, he snorted, a single burst of cold amusement. It seemed so absurd. Yet... he had no complaints. "I see." Then, with great reluctance, he turned to Mari. "Where...?" Then he regretted asking. He didn't want to know where the stable boy could be found.

Mari gave a small smile, understanding. "A long, long way from here, nowhere you would have any business going to."

Victor sighed. That was exactly what he needed to know. It had been nearly three years, but... the relief was freeing. He squeezed Mari's hand back. "Thank you for telling me. Thank you for finding out for me. But... let's never speak of it again if we can help it."

Mari smiled wider at that. "Agreed."

They changed the subject, and talked of brighter things. She told him about how her brother was doing, somewhere hidden in the world, of the job he'd just started and how well he had done in school, her pride shining out of her. For a moment, Victor wished that Lord Katsuki Yuri, the faceless boy who he still couldn't picture past the baby he'd once played with, could have seen how fearless and powerful his sister was, that she could make grown lords shake in their boots just by marching into a room and making her demands clear.  _I'll be proud of her for us both_ , he thought.

Not for the first time, Victor considered telling her about the boy on the frozen lake. He had never told her, for fear of what she would tell him... that he was being a fool, putting hopes into this stranger, hopes he couldn't even define. Well, she wouldn't call him a fool, she would be kinder than that, but... she would point out that it was no coincidence that he so desperately sought to find this innocent face after the loss of his own innocence. She would point out that it was doing him no good... just like Chris had been telling him all this time too.

 

Finally, Chris made peace enough of things, and Mari and Masumi finally left for Hasetsu. A proper goodbye... but at least when Chris put Masumi into the carriage, his former lover had no bruises, no limp, no pain in his chest other than the one far deeper within. Chris was glad he kept the letters, saved from his room in Turicum Castle... there would be no more of them.

They had left the day before. The storm had swept in faster than expected and was such that they would probably stop somewhere, possibly at the Feltsman/Katsuki border, to wait out the rains before heading on to Hasetsu. Victor wondered if Masumi had been just as inconsolable as Chris had been. Without Masumi, the reality of Chris' situation had finally hit full force - that, other than Victor, he was utterly alone - and he'd... it had been agony, watching his friend's heart break. Victor might have been Chris' first crush, but Masumi had been his first love, his first lover - they had spent the weeks of Chris' stay in Turicum experimenting with pleasure, learning each other's bodies. And it had all been ripped away from them by an innocent carelessness, a naive shock, and a cruel, punishing disgust.

Victor thought of his mother. He didn't often - it had been so long now since she'd been gone - but... Seeing his friend suffer from having love taken from him like this... he resolved to do his best on not blame her. It had been tempting to offer Christophe an out, but... he'd talked about it with Mari. She thought that it was better to not interfere in their relationship, and that neither seemed the type to want to coast by on charity.

For a few days from now however, Victor would be surprised to find his friend still in Piter, and not riding for the border to chase after love. But that first day, Christophe finally woke, his throat sore and dehydrated from crying, and he sat in the window sill with his friend, a blanket wrapped round him for comfort, absentmindedly stroking Makkachin's fur. The two sat in comfortable silence watching the rain wash the world.

Then, to Victor's surprise, Chris was the one to finally break the silence. "Victor, I've been thinking..."

He turned to his friend, felt his heart squeeze again at the bags under Chris' eyes and how bloodshot they were, at how croaky his voice was.

"The boy on the lake..."

 

Three years ago, in front of the fire in this very room, Victor had told Chris about discovering that Makkachin could fly, and crashing in the forest on to the frozen lake. He told him about the young boy he'd seen skating, and how beautiful his skating was, how... how it stirred emotions in Victor that he could barely comprehend. And Chris had looked at him like... like he was trying to be happy for his friend, happy that he had found a light on such a dark night, but...  _"One should be wary of lights that one goes towards,"_ as Chris put it reluctantly.

It had shattered an illusion for Victor. For months, Victor had gone out with Makkachin every night trying to find that lake, that forest. And every night, they failed. They searched forest after forest, trying to remember the way they had come and exactly where they had fallen. But they never found the frozen lake, never found... never found that boy. Every time that Victor couldn't go out to search he found himself restless, unable to stop thinking about the skater, about a friendship that he felt like he needed, that would  _fix everything, heal everything, make it all better_...

When the penny dropped, it had been horrifically painful. It opened the floodgates once again, brought back the pain again of how horrible that day had been. He admitted that he knew he was being... obsessive perhaps, or... hopeful beyond hope, but... he had to find him. He had to find that boy, and find out  _everything_ about him. He wanted to know how the lake existed, and how he'd learnt to skate, and whether Victor had read the feelings in his skating correctly and... his name. Victor wished he could put a name to the boy's youthful, beautiful face. And, as young and innocent as Victor still was, that really was all there was to it.

After he told Chris, who... was wary of it all... his friend had nevertheless stuck by him and even came with him a few times. But still they never found the lake, and Victor was... heartbroken. Time was slipping out his fingers like sand; the more time passed, the more unlikely it became that he would find the boy... and the more pressing it would become to realise that the things he wanted the boy to do for him, he couldn't.

It took a long, long time to finally accept the cold truth of it. To realise that, after a night where something terrible happened, the boy represented something good, something pure, something beautiful; the _only_ truly beautiful thing in his life at the time. Exactly at a moment when everything felt so ugly and corrupted, himself included, Victor had poured all of his hopes into the idea of the skater. And whilst Victor still allowed himself to think that, if he did find the boy, something wonderful could happen, that he could find a friendship there that would brighten his days, he did at least realise that... that that was never going to happen. A fairy tale, he had to tell himself. He cried, several times, every time he reminded himself that he was never going to see that light again.

But now he thought of it, given Chris' tears over a love far more real and substantial... Victor realised how naive he had been.

"... Don't give up."

Victor started, making Makkachin raise his head out of his nap. That... was not what Victor thought Chris would say. Chris had been gently trying to get Victor to let it go for three years... why...

"He... he made you feel good, didn't he? It was a good feeling, when you met him," Chris said quietly, and looked to his friend for confirmation. Victor barely needed to think about it; he nodded slowly. "Then... don't give up. Find him. He'll be grown up by now, right? Maybe... maybe..." Chris shrugged, not giving that sentence an ending. Maybe anything. Victor gave him a small smile, and nodded. "Not today though, you'll get soaked."

Victor gave a humph of a laugh and nodded to that too. "Or Makkachin'll get electrocuted, can't have that, eh boy?" And he scratched behind Makkachin's ear, who panted happily. Chris gave a weak smile at that, and the two fell back to watching again, both of them stroking Makkachin's soft fur.

Then, after a while, Chris took his own advice, sat at Victor's desk, and hovered a quill over paper, thinking of how to ask Masumi not to give up on him either.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what do you think? Please leave a comment and let me know!
> 
> In other news, CV has been polished up to within an inch of its life, and the job hunt has now begun! Please, please, please keep on wishing me luck... just... wouldn't it be incredible, amazing if... if I could finish this in Japan...? That's the dream... kamisama, onegai...


	10. XVIII-XIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, got some musical homework for you all before you start! It's not mandatory, but if you wish to pass the following class... ;-)
> 
> https://youtu.be/cfv8qTZevrw
> 
> The above is the Youtube link to the music featured in the following chapter. I reckon you'll recognise it :-P
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ... WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XVIII

* * *

"Victor, you'll drop him!"

"No, I won't!"

Makkachin barked in agreement in Victor's arms, making his human laugh, and actually risking dropping the dog. Makkachin just licked Victor's ear, not worried.

The dog was definitely too big to be doing this, even in his regular size, but Victor didn't care, and carried on skating across the ice with Makkachin in his arms, laughing freely as he spun and Makkachin's ears and tongue flapped outward. The poodle  _loved_ it.

His brother, the only one on the ice who rightfully could claim to be a child and yet refused to, glared at Victor. "You're meant to be teaching me how to skate..."

Victor snorted. What a ridiculous idea. "Yurio, you know how to skate, you don't need me to -"

"Mother  _insisted_. Of  _both of us_."

Victor grimaced. That was true... damn. Chris, watching, burst out laughing at the suffering look on Victor and Yurio's faces, and then launched himself into a jump, Victor counting the four turns for him, and landed cleanly. Makkachin barked in congratulations as Victor cheered for him, and Yurio just rolled his eyes, seemingly unimpressed, not admitting to anyone he'd been paying close attention so he could later replicate the move. Unfortunately Victor knew his little brother better than that, and glided over, adjusting Makkachin in his arms. "Come on then, what do you want me to teach you?"

Young Lord Yuri - to be formal, and if you didn't want to immediately get into his bad books by calling him 'Yurio' like the other two men on the ice - Feltsman glanced quickly at Christophe, who had slid seamlessly into practicing steps, twisting his hips this way and that. Then he looked away, uninterested in the complexity of Chris' fine balance. "Teach me how to jump like he just did."

Victor snorted again.

Lord Yurio glared up at him.

Victor's eyebrow twitched in amusement. "Alright, Yura. Go show me what you  _can_ do, and we'll go from there."

Yurio started, the glare on his face vanishing, unable to hide the panic. "Wha...? But -"

"You've only been able to do doubles thus far," Victor filled in for him, leaning down over his brother pointedly. "So what do you want me to teach you a quadruple for?"

Yurio glared again. " _Fine_. Then help me get the triple in."

"Hmmm..." Victor stood up straight, a finger on his chin, considering. He laughed as Yurio's face boiled red with anger. "Alright. Still, show me what you've got regardless, and I'll help you get the extra turn in."

Afternoons were rarely spent like this. When they could be, Victor savoured them for all they were worth. When the palace ponds were frozen over and could hold their weight like this, he and Chris would get their skates out and it would be like riding a bike; rusty at first, then joyous. And if he got to spend time with his brother as well, as bad-tempered as Yurio was, even better. Admittedly calling him by the nickname that Lady Mari had coined for him long before the boy had any say in it - and let's be honest, _no one_ called him that, even his parents called him Yura - didn't help with Yurio's tantrums, but... there had once been so many lost years whilst Victor was at school in Turicum. His half-brother had once been a grumpy toddler that a nine-year old Victor had followed around to make sure he didn't fall, and then Yurio himself was nine years old instead, struggling to understand why his older brother couldn't smile properly like he used to.

These days, Victor's smiles were not so rare. Things were... alright.

His twenty-first birthday was in less than a month. Not that this really meant an enormous amount to him; it was the height of the Yule Festival, on the day when families congregated to celebrate together with a feast and games and gift exchanges; a token of gratitude for each other's presence in their lives. Subsequently the extra attention that was often lavished on Yurio on his birthday in the Spring tended to dissolve into the festivities of the day for Victor. He had never minded particularly; this had always been the case, and as a child he was spoilt enough with his father's attention on the day, spared from his duties until the evening, when the clan would go into the city and oversee charitable efforts to ensure those less fortunate than they also had a time of celebration.

This year, Victor was particularly looking forward to the latter. It does however require a long explanation.

Time had passed since Christophe had been expedited to Piter, and Masumi returned home to Hasetsu. Since then, Masumi had become one of Lady Mari's personal advisors. Christophe was still writing to him, albeit with waning regularity, and Masumi didn't always reply anymore, but Victor understood that this position didn't require an enormous amount from Lady Mari; she detested career politicians even more than Victor did, and Victor sensed from Mari herself that she saw Masumi as a break from the parasitic fawning of the others who looked for her favour.

Though in fairness to those who did look for her favour... she really made them jump through hoops. A position in the circle of Lady Katsuki Mari was  _earned_.

And, Victor suspected, Masumi earned his by keeping confidence.

The two former lovers, Masumi and Christophe, had seen each other only twice since, and only when the Katsuki family came to Piter for clan business (and much vodka and sake drinking). The first time, nearly a year after the terrible incident in Turicum, had been painfully awkward; Masumi was still grieving his family, and blamed himself for their loss... and was trying his hardest not to blame Christophe too.

Christophe was never naive that the affair had cost them very dearly, or more accurately had cost Masumi far more than it had him. Christophe lost a title he didn't give a fig about, lost parents unworthy of that title, and for all the gossip and judging glares he got he had landed - for the most part - on his feet. Masumi had lost his parents, his good name, had had to bear the whisperings in silence to keep decorum, and had been the one who had been beaten, tortured and humiliated for his love. It wasn't fair. All that he had left was due to the mercy and generosity of Lady Mari... and even then, there was no point in pretending it was not because of her friendship with Victor.

So for the weeks that the Katsukis had been at the palace in Piter, Masumi had avoided Christophe as much as he could. Then, during the ball marking the Katsukis last night, he'd caved.

Victor had to awkwardly stand guard outside of Christophe's room with Makkachin whilst the two had a shouting match at each other, making sure that no one else overheard. The servants, hearing the raised voices, all wisely did about-turns and spread the word. And by the end of it, Victor knew, better than he had ever wanted to, all about the resentment Masumi hated possessing, all about the guilt that the Hasetsan carried, and... that he still loved him anyway, and missed him, and it all just  _hurt_.

He heard the two of them cry for all they had lost and endured together. Then things got quieter, as all emotion was spent. Then, just as Victor turned to Makkachin to suggest they leave, he heard something he'd never heard before float through the door; a deep moan.

 _Oh_. Victor scarpered. Absolutely no way was he sticking around to listen to _that_ , even to make sure no one else did either.

The second visit took a little while to pick up where they had left off, the two trying to figure out where they really stood after all this time with each other, without a future or a good ending. But at the time Christophe hadn't found someone else, and neither had Masumi, and neither were ready to move on just yet, even though they knew that one day... they'd have to. It just wasn't feasible to continue, or fair. Love is not easy, but it shouldn't be this difficult either.

A few months later they both wrote to the other, and asked to be friends, to be released from obligation to each other. Christophe had mourned, as had Masumi miles away with only Lady Mari to notice and sympathise, but... relief eventually followed. Moving on wasn't all that bad... some days...

But Christophe was doing alright now. He was the reason that Victor was looking forward to the mid-point of Yule. After Christophe had settled back into Piter, Yakov had sat the young man down and the two discussed what the future would look like. Lord Feltsman had insisted that Christophe finish his education; if Christophe wanted to be taken seriously, then there was no arguing on it. Christophe hadn't argued at all, had been solemn and reasonable; his final results were the highest of that year, more impressive than Victor's even. Then Lord Yakov offered Christophe a job.

"My advisors are...  _lazy_ about arranging charitable efforts across the land," Lord Yakov said, his tone low and unimpressed. Said advisors were in the room at the time, and all looked worryingly at each other; of course they were. Some of them were Yakov's father's advisors; they had known wars with the other clans, had used the clan funds to pay for soldiers' keeps and smithy fees for weapons. But Yakov had, through various means, ended all of the ongoing conflicts; war funds were spent on defending borders against clans he didn't entirely trust to keep the peace, or... weren't spent at all. The coffers in Piter were doing very well. _"I'm going to give you a budget. Do something good with it. Speak to my son about it, clear everything with him first."_

So for the last year since Christophe's graduation, Victor and Christophe had been touring the Feltsman territory, and had whittled their focus to three main points, all of varying levels of ambition. The first was specific: to re-outfit the military hospital in Piter, which now barely served its purpose, to a public one without fees. The second was bigger, would take years: fixing all of the main highways and roads, so that transportation would be smoother across the land, enabling trade and commerce. And lastly, one that hopefully would have the greatest reach: more schools, everywhere, and scholarships for those who could not afford to send their brightest to them. In the land they envisioned, with businesses that would have far greater reach than just the towns they resided in, reading and writing would be essential for understanding contracts and agreements, as things wouldn't be expressed by one's spoken word. As for the hospital, it would be the first of many.

 _Teach a man to fish_ , was the beginning of an old proverb that was used in the royal provinces of the Bins.  _Teach a man to fish, and you'll feed him for a life time._ In the Katsuki lands, this proverb was the reason why, for centuries, it was mandatory for children to attend school until they became adults (though over time the definition of adulthood moved). Even the children of peasants had to attend, and if they were needed to work they would have to do so outside of school hours. The standard of teaching was always difficult to enforce, but it was better than had been the case in the Feltsman lands. Well, Victor had his own take on the proverb, though he had never consciously thought it out:

 _Teach a man to fish, and you'll feed him for a lifetime. That's no good if he falls out of his boat and drowns, or if he poisons himself by accident. Help the man back into his boat, or give him a cure. If you are to feed a man for a lifetime,_ keep him alive _._

When they brought their proposals to Lord Yakov a few months ago, he had given them an entire week of his time to properly draft and finalise the plans. At the end, he sat back in his chair and frowned. _"You'll need more money. I'll get you it."_

So the two young lords were not popular amongst the advisors; Yakov had told them all to put their money where their mouths were, and pay for their seats on the council. When one of them protested and refused to pay, Yakov had nodded solemnly. _"I see, very well. There's the door. Good day to you, sir."_

Unsurprisingly they had all coughed up, albeit with great reluctance, and within a few days engineers headed out to fix and expand the road that led to Urajio, the border town on the Feltsman side of the Ribenhai River, opposite Dazaifu.

So all in all... life could be better, but it could also be considerably worse. Victor had no complaints for himself. His best friend still lived in the palace with him, and he and his little half-brother got on reasonably well. Lilia had asked to be part of the hospital project, and was whipping the resident soldiers into shape, ensuring that the project didn't stall straight out of the blocks by apathy and unwillingness to change. Victor rather thought that she enjoyed terrifying everyone with her stern face and strict orders. He and his father had regular evenings after long days of meetings - all of which Victor now reluctantly attended, in preparation for The Day, as they called it - and drank vodka together to complain over the uselessness of some of Yakov's advisors.

 _"One day you'll have to know how to handle them yourself, Victor,"_ his father had told him. Yakov regretted saying it out loud; his son was then quiet and solemn for the rest of the night. Beneath it was the morbid acknowledgement that Yakov would one day pass away and leave everything to Victor, something that neither were fond of contemplating. His relationship with his son was far better than the one he had had with his father. When Yakov's father had died, he hadn't mourned at all; it had been a relief, for him and his wife, Victor's mother. Victor had come a few months later, and never met his grandfather; a mercy in Yakov's opinion. But... he loved his beautiful boy, who had grown up to be so bright and handsome. And he rather thought that his son loved him too. He was loathed to leave his son to have to take up the mantel of leading the clan alone, without the freedom to grieve.

Victor wasn't like Yakov. Victor was cunning, a trickster on occasion, and could, would and _did_  run circles around the advisors. But he wasn't cut-throat, merciless like Yakov could be. That was what Yakov loved about him. But it wouldn't do him any good in the future.

But in the meantime, Victor had his family, and his friend, and Makkachin, and he had  _purpose_. He was doing alright.

Well... he had one complaint. He'd been so busy that he never had time to fly with Makkachin at night, and _look_. The boy on the frozen lake was slowly fading away from his mind, and Victor found himself grieving for that. It was for the best, he told himself, sighing tiredly. A pipe dream anyway. He was twenty now, and the past was the past, sleeping peacefully enough in his memories.

And recently, Christophe had decided it was time to move on. For both of them. They weren't children anymore, and no matter what their titles were they were allowed to have fun just as much as others their age could. They had both snuck out of the palace one night, had headed into the city for hedonism... and had come back in the early hours hungover and with very different impressions of the experience. Christophe had thoroughly enjoyed himself, even though his smiles for the rest of the day were tight from trying not to think of Masumi. Victor on the other hand...

_"Victor, what happened there?"_

_"... Err..."_

Long story short, Victor struck out. Really badly. In a brothel.

Christophe knew better than to press however. It had been a strange reminder that, even though Victor was the elder of the two by nearly two years, it was only Christophe who had learnt pleasure in someone else's hands, mouth and body. In a pleasure house hidden in the city, he was taught more lessons on how to chase that delicious burn. Never kissing the man he gave his coins to worked perfectly well for his purposes; it meant that Masumi was the only one Christophe had ever kissed.

But Victor...

The moment that he stepped into the pleasure house, he had had every pair of eyes, employed or otherwise, on him, and it made him  _shrink_. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it; even in Piter, young men with hair and eyes his colour and cheekbones that sharp were rare. Victor had tried drinking it off, and had felt even more vulnerable the more wine he drank until he just started to pretend he was still drinking for Christophe's sake. And at the height of the parade of dancers and temptations, the house's star - a lithe creature with equally rare, long red hair, green eyes and skin that siren-called for fingerprinted bruises on his hips - curled into Victor's lap and whispered the many things he'd like to do for the silver-haired young man... on the house.

Victor panicked, and scrambled out of his seat so fast he fell out of it on to the floor, just as Christophe came out from the backrooms. Drunk and stumbling on his own legs, sated and satisfied, Christophe had laughed and helped Victor up, making apologies. The red-head, pushed to the floor from Victor's escape, glared in humiliation. Needless to say they hadn't been back, but neither could think of a reason to anyway; Victor wanted nothing from the place, on the house or otherwise, and Christophe had gotten what he'd came for, which was... less than he had hoped.

Seemed neither had really moved on.

They both learnt their lesson, and instead when they snuck out of the palace they frequented places where service was limited to the bar and the exchange was coin for wine only. The two young men enjoyed each others' company under caps and coats borrowed from the servants, and later ones they bought themselves, and Victor never minded too much if Chris caught someone's eye and spoke the silent language of those with tastes hidden in plain sight. Sometimes there was music for Victor to enjoy whilst Christophe snuck out the back to have fun with a stranger in the shadows, and sometimes women would try to tempt him away too, to no avail. A lost cause, they would eventually realise, but Victor, if he was in the mood to humour, enjoyed the banter, and thanked them genuinely and politely for flattering him. More than anything, he couldn't help but be flattered by being mistaken for any other man, in the borrowed disguise; they never figured out who he really was. 

Speaking of which...

"Victor, we had better head back, we'll be late," Christophe murmured into his friend's ear as they watched Yurio stumble awkwardly on his last landing (though he got that third turn in this time).

Victor smiled and nodded. "Yura! I'm tired, I'm done for tonight."

His brother glared. "What?! But -"

"Come on, Lilia will be waiting for you, it's getting dark."

"No, it's...!" Yurio trailed off and looked about them, realising that his brother was right; the sun was setting, the light burning dimmer over the ice and snow. No point in contradicting the obvious. " _Fine_! But you're teaching me tomorrow!"

"Am I?" Victor teased, and ruffled his brother's blond hair as he got too close, and Yurio batted his arm away angrily. "We'll see, alright?"

Yurio grimaced, but took what he could get. Victor rarely skated these days anyway, busy with work, so much so that -

"Come on!"

Victor and Christophe quickly shed their layers of finery, anything that would mark them for nobility, and dressed in the slightly plainer ware that they had bought once for similar purposes, and asked for the carriage to be brought round, just so that they didn't have to walk too far.

The clothing tonight was perhaps more for the thrill, but also it made for some camouflage; people tended to leave them be when they didn't look like the clan heirs. Their coats, plain shirts and trousers were all shop-bought, un-tailored, but of decent quality, made to last. But that suited perfectly what Victor wanted tonight - to not be fawned over. The carriage dropped them off at the edge of town, close but not too close to their destination, and when Christophe picked their tickets up from the ticket office, he presented them to Victor with a genuine smile. "It's a few days early, but 'Happy Birthday'." As Victor gave a heart-shaped smile, Chris looped his arm round his best friend's shoulders. "Come, let's get some mulled wine and find our seats."

Which were, with the exception of the royal box, the best in the house. Not that it was really a house; to protect the audience from the elements, a vast, cavernous tent had been pitched up over the stands, lanterns hanging carefully above the circular arena large enough to host a hockey match, and a small orchestra was tuning at the other end. Victor and Christophe settled into the cushions on their private balcony, and giggled as the audience was roused to their feet to welcome Lord Yakov, Lady Lilia, and Lord Yuri to the festivities. They could have joined them of course, but the two friends had wanted to skip the pomp of the official welcome. From their seats just to one side, Victor could see that his father was tired from a long day, and was really only there out of duty and for his wife, who still had an interest from her teaching days (it was, after all, how they had met). Yurio looked irritated from being so high up, separated from the events and unable to participate, and having to behave himself in public. Victor was much happier with his own seats, thank you.

Indeed, he turned to Christophe and nudged his friend. "Thank you for this."

Christophe nudged him back. "You're welcome."

Unlike Yura, they could indulge in a nudging contest before the lanterns were lowered, their lights shrinking in closer to the -

Victor never saw it coming.

* * *

XIX

* * *

Just breathe... just breathe...

 _This was such a stupid idea_ , Yuri thought to himself, twisting his hands over and over, tapping his leg. He'd been trying to stop both for the last hour, and had failed miserably.

"It'll be alright, Yuri," Phichit told him, his voice sounding very far away, even though he knew that his guardian was sitting right next to him.

Guardian... it seemed strange thinking of Phichit as his guardian now; they practically looked the same age now. Yet... Phichit used to tell stories with glove puppets to him before he went to sleep. Had tried to replicate his aunt's katsudon recipe, though sadly never with a great deal of success. And had brought him here.

Cousin Mariko appeared in front of him and knelt to be level. Yuri tried to hide the panic from his face, feeling ungrateful. This was only possible because of her -

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," she said calmly. "If you want to leave, we can. Truly."

Yuri stared at her. And breathed.  _Oh_...

"I..."

He didn't have to do this. They could... they could go home, forget all about this mad dream -

But it was too late, wasn't it? He had been to the audition in Dazaifu - until then he had never left Kara - and gotten his spot in tonight's part of the opening, and his music had already been handed to the orchestra during practice, and everyone would be expecting him to -

"Yuri." Mariko placed a steadying hand on his tapping leg, pushing down on it to finally stop it, and raised his chin up. "No matter what you do, Phichit and I are right here."

At his side, Phichit nodded in emphatic agreement.

Yuri looked between one to the other, and thought...  _I love them both so much. I couldn't do this without them_. His fists clenched.  _Come on Yuri_... He nodded, feigning more determination than he truly felt. "I... I want to... I want to do this..."

Both Mariko and Phichit beamed. The fairy hugged his side. "I'm glad. You're going to be so good, Yuri, you'll see, it'll be perfect -!"

_Perfect..._

Yuri started, and blushed. It... it had been a while since he last remembered that voice. It hadn't been that long, five years - oh. Five years... _that long?_ It had been five years since he'd seen the awe on the boy's face, the unexpected stranger on the ice.

 _I was been so small, so young then_ , Yuri thought with a blush. He took a deep breath, and thought...

_I'm not so small now. I'm eighteen, a grown man now. I am a fully-trained book-keeper, my clients trust their businesses in my hands to ensure their prosperity. I am good at what I do, I have worked hard to be good at it. And... I love this. I have always loved this. I... I'm good at this too._

_I wasn't perfect then, five years ago. But tonight... tonight I will be._

When Yuri stood, his back straight and head held high even as his breath quivered in his lungs, steadying, Mari smiled up at her brother proudly. The Great Wizard of Popovich might have condemned Yuri to be plagued by demons all his life, the shadows of which cast doubts upon her brother's mind like nothing she had ever seen in anyone else... yet it wasn't stopping him.

Yuri had less than three years. He was going to beat this thing. He was going to be so good...

 _God, this was so reckless_ , she thought, grinning in her mind, smirking outwardly. If they got caught - _we aren't going to get caught_ \- but if they did...

Mari grinned properly. Absolutely no one would expect to find her where she was right now. She wasn't alone - _he_ was just through the door, waiting for her - and she was armed, just in case, the katana hidden in her Hakama. And in case that wasn't enough... she had the Fairy of Siam with them. They'd be absolutely fine.

All the same... for Yuri's sake... if something found  _him_...

Again, they'd be fine, she told herself, not grinning anymore. Phichit had said that nothing was looking for him here, and that if anything did happen he would take care of it. They had spent the whole of Yuri's life limiting it... But he was an adult now. He was taller than her, even when he wasn't in his sheathed skates, and his body and face had lost so much of the baby fat that had once made him such a cute child. And...

What if... what if the curse worked... if the worst happened... what kind of life would it have been for him? She didn't want him to have lived only the losing end of compromises.

As for Phichit... he might has well have been named Reckless. He couldn't wait - achoo!

He'd forgotten how cold it was in Piter in the winter.

They were on the wrong side of the tarpaulin, Phichit griped. There was some over their heads, in case it rained or snowed, but that did absolutely nothing against the biting wind. And he'd draped his coat over Yuri - when he got anxious he got cold - and he was starting to wish he was a dragon like Guang Hong, who always had heat in his belly.

Speaking of, Phichit was annoyed with his fellow guardians. He understood why they weren't there - Guang Hong was probably in the Other Plains right now, battling inferno, and Leo was probably in the Elsewhere too - but... still. It was for Yuri. If they said they wanted to be here so badly, were so gutted to miss it, then they should have been there, be gutted over missing something else like... like he was.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cawing sound. Phichit turned away from Yuri, who was stretching out his arms in rolling movements, and... there was the Raven, sitting right next to him.

The bird ruffled its red feathers, cawed pointedly and irritably at him - it was the medallion she was wearing; the looking glass was pretty heavy, even one that small - and then spread her wings and flew into the arena unseen. In their way, Guang Hong and Leo were here, they had made sure of it. Even if Mila wasn't happy about having to carry the weight to do it.

Shouldn't have invaded their home and offered to help, then.

Inside the orchestra finished their tuning, and played an introductory piece, a warm up for the audience. The first performer stepped up - dressed in a mock Feltsman soldier's uniform - and was soon called out to the applause of the audience within.

There were to be over a dozen solo performers, both men and women, plus another dozen pairs. Over half of all of them were from the Feltsman territory, but the other half were from all over the clan lands, from Turicum, Wiryeseong, Vesvius, Praha, Tkaronto... and Kara. Of all of the performers, Yuri was the most southern, and everyone had been surprised to hear that he hadn't had trouble finding ice to practice on - he didn't reveal just how easy it had been, easier than any of them, not confined to seasons in the more northerly regions.

And yet... they had all been born to the ice... he'd... he didn't even know where he'd been born. Huh... Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo had never told him where his parents were from, he'd never thought to ask until now... oh...

Not that it mattered... some village somewhere, far away from anywhere, vulnerable to the cut-throat wildness of bandits apparently. The village might not even be standing anymore, it had been eighteen years since his parents had given their lives up for it... for him...

 _Stop thinking about it_ , Yuri ordered himself, _about them_. He disobeyed. For everyone else he was so obliging, so eager to help... but for himself...

Inside, the music ended, the audience already applauding. Yuri frowned... the clapping sounded a little lacklustre... did they just need warming up, or had he set his expectations too high? He shook his head.  _Stop it_. He walked away, and once he was far enough, where the wind at least helped drown out the noise coming from within the giant tent - the next performer was being announced - and...

Yuri took a deep breath. And stretched.

 _Just think of your choreography_ , Yuri told himself, bending one leg beneath him in a crouch, then the next.  _Just think of how much you've enjoyed creating this back home._ And he had; it had been a good year. Stressful, learning the ropes of his job and trying to find time to skate after, trying to find the energy to. But with just Phichit and himself in the cottage now they were more flexible in their routines; Yuri got into the habit of bigger breakfasts and lunches to get through working in the bookshop, pouring over accounts, and then Phichit brought smaller, simpler dinners to him on the ice.

Phichit... Yuri paused as he stood up straight to smile. The two had always been close, but the last year living together had been so wonderful, if a little... eye-opening. They would need to talk, when this was done. But Phichit had been his sounding board for every inch of his choreography, had helped him so much. He'd cheered him on, winced sympathetically every time he fell, hovered over the ice to lend a hand to get him back up. None of this would have been possible without his guardian, if he hadn't frozen the lake for him and given him his first pair of skates as a child, if he hadn't encouraged Yuri to keep going ever since.

Even now, Phichit was watching over Yuri, was listening out for his cue for him so that Yuri could immerse into that feeling deep in his limbs, deep in the core of him, from which his dancing and his skating came forth.

Yuri smiled as he thought of a few people, many of whom he wished could be there with him in Piter, but... at least they got to see a version of this. A month ago for the bonfire festival in Kara he'd danced a version of his skate, with Minako's unwavering support. For months she'd opened her dance studio, at the back of his old school, for him so he could practice for the festival performance - a test run - unaware that it was cross-training for the Piter Yule Festival opening exhibition. Yuuko and Takeshi had come with the triplets to watch, and the three babies had actually kept quiet for Yuri's performance, saved their cries for when he stopped hypnotising them with his movements.

That had gone well... his festival performance. Really well, even. He got a lot of people praising him for it, thanking him for livening up the festival for the town, making him blush all night. He might have drowned his embarrassment in beer that night, had suffered his first hangover with Phichit laughing over him in the morning... he shouldn't have, he hadn't yet been of age, just shy by a few weeks... but Phichit didn't mind, had just found it funny. Another bonding moment, he called it.

_Everyone... thank you. I... I won't let you down. I'll be... perfect._

"Yuri." He looked up from his thoughts. Phichit and Mariko stood, smiling, waiting. "You're up soon. Best get your skates on."

He stared at them for a moment, and then smiled and nodded. He concentrated on Mariko's arm over his shoulders, Phichit's hand over the top as they led him out, the sheathed blades on his boots clunking on the mats. The stage manager gave a nod at the entrance as he came in, and waited his turn. In front of him the ice beckoned, where a pair were spinning together, heading for the climax of their act. Yuri didn't really see them though; he saw the ice, saw the lines cut by those who had skated before him, saw the glimmer of the lanterns hung above, and nothing else.

The music came to an end, and the pair froze in place, panting, before taking their bows, bowing for the noble box, and then headed out on the opposite side to a more enthused applause. At the edge of Yuri's awareness, he heard the stage manager remind him to bow towards the noble box first, at the far end of the ice, before greeting the general audience, and to bow again when he was done. Yuri nodded and bent, took off the guards and handed them to his family.

Then his name was being called...

 _Go_.

They didn't need to, but both Mari and Phichit gave Yuri a gentle push out on to the ice -  _"please welcome to the ice, from Kara in the Katsuki lands, Tosuu Yuri!"_ \- and as the audience politely clapped for his introduction Yuri did a quick lap of the ice as instructed, and then took the centre, bowing toward the end of the rink. Not that he could see a thing; everything past the ice was shadow, and hazy shadow to boot without his glasses. It didn't matter; he could skate this blindfolded. It was all about the motion, the feeling... it was just him on the ice.

He took his position. A violin began, haunting yet teasing, and Yuri swept his arms around himself in answer, before flinging them down toward the ice to claim it.

Slowly, he lifted his head up, to peer into the distance that he couldn't see, and asked everyone to watch, and let him tell a story.

_I wish you could see this too..._

And in that distance, Victor's chest constricted and his eyes widened.

* * *

...

* * *

Victor would never remember anything past the point when the lanterns were lowered for the first performance. He knew that he watched the other performances with Chris at his side, slowly drinking mulled wine and conferring over polite claps whether they thought much of the skaters, and then...

Then...

Victor didn't think much of Tosuu Yuri from the Katsuki lands when he first stepped on to the ice. He looked a little nervous perhaps, very young, in fact quite a bit younger than the other skaters thus far. Pleasant to look at, with hair so dark it could only really have been Katsukian, the lights of the lanterns glowing off the glossy strands that had been combed back off his face. Dressed in a simple enough costume, with black bottoms that hugged strong thighs and a black shirt sewn in around a narrow waist and sharp shoulders, the young man looked different from the skaters before him, and likely after too. The others were all from the north, Victor vaguely familiar with their names from previous years; they would tour the lands for festivals and galas in the winter months, some working in theatres and the like in the summer when the ice was gone. Master Tosuu however was a new face apparently, his debut perhaps.

As he gave a bow in the general direction of Victor's family above him, Victor found himself wishing the newcomer good luck.

Then the music played, the skater moved, and Victor frowned. Wait... why did it seem familiar -

The violin paused as Tosuu lifted his head and looked almost straight at Victor, or rather a spot even further back, over his head, as though the skater was trying to see the stars... and...

 _The longing on his face_...

The pause seemed to go on forever, even though it was but a moment. The longing on Tosuu Yuri's face went unanswered, and Victor flinched, feeling like something else should have happened then - a knowing smile perhaps? A blown kiss even? Instead... oh god. The look on Tosuu Yuri's face was painful to behold, how much he yearned for the object of his gaze, how far away it must have been from him.  _Come back to me_ , he called.  _I've lost you, I've been waiting for you... come back to me... I want you to see this._

Then the violin was joined by another, and the duet pulled the skater into -

 _Oh_...

The skater confidently began a long, complicated, twisting and elegant step sequence, crossing over the ice with purpose and whimsy, the duo violins dancing with him with glee and abandon. A smile tugged at the corners of Victor's awe-opened mouth, marvelling at how...  _fun_ the sequence seemed. His eyes hungrily ate every step, committing every second to memory, smiling more widely as the skater did too, slowly forgetting the nerves that were so obvious when he first appeared.

A story was told. Of a passion found early, and fused with childhood innocence and wonder; Victor pictured a tiny child discovering skating, laughing with joy at the feel of the glide across the ice. There were... family members in the story, or friends... someone fussy and rule abiding, someone else more whimsical, someone else strong and tough... people who loved this joyful child and who he loved in return, for whom this skate was dedicated, and who kept him spinning with such straight limbs yet with such glee.

Things began to change as the skater spread-eagled into a forward, triple-turning jump. The skater was clearly nervous about the jumps, and it bled into his narrative. He had started to grow up, had learnt that life was more complicated, that he had responsibilities, but then he moved on, still enjoying the glide of the transitions, his twists and turns loosening his hair. Then -

Christophe sat up, now just as intrigued as Victor. "Was that...?!"

A quadruple salchow, yes, even with a hand on the ice to keep balance. Victor's eyes widened, shocked. The jump cast ripples through the audience as well -  _none_ of the other skaters had done, or were even capable of doing, quadruple-turned jumps. Where had this boy come from that he could jump like this? Even for Victor and Christophe, it was still extremely difficult after years of training with instructors. Even the skater looked a little shocked that he managed the jump as well as he had - Victor could remember falling on that same jump a thousand times - but then he frowned, willing himself to concentrate, and carried on with a scraping kick of the ice.

Adulthood beckoned in his story, with decisions to make, examples to follow, yet a yearning to continue this joy that he was presenting to them.  _Let me keep this_ , he seemed to say as he lunged forward into the future, choice made, before launching himself into another quadruple jump, followed immediately by a triple, both landed well, and almost immediately went straight into a final spin, leg straight and tight for the curve, then dipping low to the ice, limbs tight and controlled.

_Come what may, I want to keep doing this. I want to keep skating. I love this._

The skater rose out of the spin, swept off his worries and his responsibilities, anything that would stop him from this passion of his, and then swept into a self-embrace as the violins cut.

_This is who I am._

There was a pause. Then the audience  _roared_.

Above, Lord Yuri Feltsman forgot himself and clapped earnestly, grinning from ear-to-ear, and turned to his mother. "Did you see that?!" He gushed. Lady Lilia nodded, clapping, a rare smile on her face, admiring in the way that teachers do when they have seen a student pass with excellence. Between them, Lord Yakov blinked in surprise before raising his hands to clap too. He was confused... he was simultaneously reminded of his son, but also of his friend Toshiya. Beneath their noble box, Christophe wolf-whistled to the skater, cheering loudly with a deliberate heightening of his Turicum accent for an encore.

On the other side of the venue, Phichit cried with joy into his hands, never prouder in his long, long existence. Next to him Mari had forgotten all decorum and was screaming with triumph for her brother. Amazing! People were getting out of their seats to give a standing ovation for the best skater of the night, thus far and undoubtedly in total.

Meanwhile, Victor stared. "Per-"

_"Perfect..."_

Victor's mouth dropped open as memories crashed with the force of tsunami into him. That dark hair, big doe eyes... the boy... the boy on the frozen lake... it was him... it was  _undeniably_ him...

"Oh my god..."

Victor slowly rose to his feet, but as he did the boy started once again, bowed as quickly as possible, and skated into the dark, off the ice.

 _No! Don't go!_ "Wait!"

Victor ran.

* * *

...

* * *

In the centre, Yuri saw none of this. He panted hard, body burning with exertion, having pushed every inch of himself into this... it... a smile tickled on his face... it went alright... more than alright... he was sure he could hear something past the pounding of his heart, but... it felt right. He felt... he felt good... he felt -

 _You messed up the second jump_.

His heart froze, and his veins turned to glaciers. He touched down on the jump, hadn't quite got his balance right... stupid... he'd ruined it... he'd messed up...  _No... I'm so sorry everyone... I let you down_...

A sob threatened in his chest, but it was _stuck_. Yuri's eyes darted around himself, panicked.  _Get off the ice_... he made his bow quickly towards the noble box, wherever it really was, and skated back at a sprint. He heard Phichit -  _Phichit, Cousin Mariko_ \- call his name and saw them at the barrier waiting for him with smiles and open arms and -  _no please, don't look like that, so... so proud... don't do that, don't make it worse... I don't deserve it_...

"Yuri...?"

Mariko... Yuri stared at her, so tight and tense he couldn't even open his jaw to say anything at all, desperately trying to ask for something, anything to make him feel better about the catastrophe of a skate he'd just done. Hands found his shoulders. "Yuri, breathe, come on...  _shit_ , Phichit, let's get him out of here."

Hands he trusted to the ends of the earth took him and guided him off the ice, paused him so that he could get his boots off, scrambling out of them in the end. He should never have come here, he should never have done this... he...

 _Oh god... what if_ he _had seen... no..._

"Yuri."

_That wasn't possible... surely fate would not be so cruel..._

_... Yes, it can._

" _Yuri_."

Yuri came back to himself with such a rush the room spun, and he had to swallow hard to not vomit from the dizziness of his anxiety. Clutching his shoulders, bathed in soft shadows and candle-light, Phichit waited for Yuri to come back to him. "Phi... Phichit...?"

"Hello."

Yuri took a deep breath, and slowly let himself take in... ah. They were back in the room at the inn that Mariko had booked them into - _oh god, she must have spent a small fortune on this endeavour and he'd wasted it_ \- and... oh... "Whe... where's Mariko?"

Phichit gave a small, knowing smile. "She bumped into someone she knew."

"Eh?"

Phichit shook his head. "Leave her be. Do you feel better now?"

 _... I give you strength, to bear it_ , a whisper said.  _I give you stubbornness, to never give up..._

"I..." Yuri shrank into himself, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I messed up."

Phichit blinked up at him, and then shook his head. "Oh Yuri..." Yuri looked up from his knees, confused by his guardian's reaction. Then Phichit gave him a sad grin, one well worn. "You didn't mess up, pal, you didn't mess up at all."

Yuri flinched back, not in the mood to be pitied. "But... the salchow... I touched -"

"The  _quadruple_ salchow," Phichit corrected.

Yuri gulped, missing the point, feeling worse for it. "I screwed up my balance, I was going to fall otherwise, I -"

"You were the only one tonight doing quadruple jumps."

Yuri's jaw slowly dropped open as this information registered in his mind.  _The only one_...? "Wha-what...? That... EH?!"

Phichit just nodded. "Mariko asked around as well. The other performers, it wasn't that they chose not to do them... they  _can't_."

Yuri stared at him. "That... no... that's not..."

Phichit tilted his head, grinning. "That's not what?"

Yuri blushed. "P-Possible..."

Phichit shrugged. "And yet... it is." He beamed. "You've got a ton of invites to other exhibitions, by the way. It's a pity that the weather is too temperate in the Katsuki lands, if there were competitions, or if this gala had been a competition... you would have won."

Yuri stared. He didn't even blink.

Then he keeled over. A good thing that he was already on the bed. Phichit went to stop him, but then just let him fall back and snore. It had been a long day after all. Like old times, as though Yuri was still only ten years old and falling asleep after a post-skate snack, Phichit picked up Yuri's long limbs and tucked him into bed. Then he savoured the moment, knowing it would be the last time he did this for him. He leaned forward, and whispered tenderly.

"Guang Hong and Leo watched. We're all so proud of you. Look how magnificent you have become."

Then he blew out the candles to let Yuri rest, completely unaware that Lord Victor Feltsman was tearing through the festival trying to find the skater who had vanished from the ice.

* * *

...

* * *

_No... please no..._

He couldn't find him. Chris had sprinted after him, had split up to look too, but... nothing. _Where had he gone?_

Victor spent the whole night trying to find Tosuu Yuri. When dawn came, Christophe found him and dragged him back to the palace to sleep, pointing out that they had looked everywhere and asked everyone who could have known, but no one knew where the skater was staying tonight. The event was over, and some performers had already packed up their things to move on to their next bookings; so too might have Tosuu Yuri.

Victor had lost him again. When he finally admitted bitter defeat and curled up in bed with Makkachin, he still didn't sleep. He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it, making Makkachin startle and whimper. He didn't remember when he collapsed into sleep, only that when he finally woke the sun was descending again.

His first thought was that Tosuu Yuri had probably left the city by now, and it brought him to tears. Victor had no way of knowing. He was probably on his way home to... to...

Victor sat up,  _remembering_.

 _"Ple _ase welcome to the ice, from Kara in the Katsuki lands, Tosuu Yuri!"__ The announcer had said... Kara...

Victor scrambled out of bed and sprinted to the library, to the maps section. He grabbed the first one he spotted of the Katsuki lands, spread it out over a nearby table, and poured over it. Kara... Kara...  _ah!_ Was that it, a tiny town just after Daizaifu, on the main road to Hasetsu? Which direction was that from Piter...? Victor grabbed another map, a larger one showing the neighbours of the Feltsman territory... there was Dazaifu, on the banks of the wide river opposite Urajio... and there was Kara. South East from Piter... by carriage it would take over a day to just reach Urajio from Piter... but lucky for Victor...

He turned to Makkachin, who had his paws up on the table. The dog looked up at him. "Please... help me find him again?"

Makkachin woofed enthusiastically.

They went out that night, flying towards the moon, Victor holding a compass to keep in the right direction, looking for significant landmarks in the dark, the sun long set. He didn't remember how long it had taken Makkachin to fly there originally, though... he was sure that, in all the years he'd been looking, he'd tried this way before.

He found nothing again. They went home, Victor cursing himself, and he got some proper rest and in the morning went out again, to search in the daylight. He didn't care for a single second about the meetings he never bothered to postpone, cancel or make excuses for, he didn't even remember them at all.

Still nothing.

Victor returned to the palace in Piter and didn't know whether he wanted to punch something or scream or cry or... he settled for nearly pulling his hair out, until -

"Come on, Victor," Christophe said, pulling his friend's hands out of his scalp. He'd been waiting for him, was ready to help. "Let's take another look."

The two of them went back to the library and tracked out the route. Victor needed to look out for particular landmarks, veer further South, then -

"I'll go with you, let's go."

This, perhaps, is friendship: two men on an magically enlarged poodle, flying across the lands, the one at the back clinging on to both his friend and a map that had been scribbled over.

"Hey, Victor... I get it now. If you'd told me your mystery boy looked like  _that_..."

They still didn't find the bamboo grove. So to speak.

"But... this should be it..." Christophe glared at the map, at the compass he was holding, at the small town beneath them. "That's Kara, I'm sure of it.  _That's_ definitely Daizufu in the distance, at the river, so... where's the forest?"

Victor looked down, despair creeping through his veins. It all looked so familiar, even though it was now daylight - sunset, the sky was pinking and determined to lend light for as long as it could spare it for their cause, glowing on the wintery, snow-dusted world below - but...  _where was the forest?_

The bamboo grove was down there, directly beneath their feet. But... between the latent power of the bamboo, spells cast by the Three Grand Prix Fairies and the Red Raven, two mere human lords didn't stand a chance of seeing that which was determined to not be seen. Makkachin whimpered -  _he_ could see it, but the Red Raven had been clear, he couldn't come back.

"Let's try the town," Christophe suggested, and they descended. But the town had no rink, the instructor of the only dance studio narrowed her eyes at them and fobbed them off, and there was no sign of Tosuu Yuri. Finally -  _finally_ \- someone let slip in one of the bars that that might be that boy who worked for Mr Plisetski, the bookshop owner, but by then it was late, and the shop was closed for Yule, no lights within, and when Victor tried knocking anyway no one answered.

Victor turned to his friend, desperate for guidance. He was so  _close_...

"We'll try again, Victor," Christophe said, sincerely. "But neither of us are prepared to camp out here until he appears. At the very least we need money, and maybe some different clothes so we don't look exactly like... well, foreign lords."

Victor hung his head, feeling defeated. Christophe was right; even if anyone did know who Tosuu Yuri was, why would they point them in the right direction? What business did they really have there in Kara? If an official looking stranger came to him and asked for his loved one's whereabouts, he would want to know who was asking too.

They went home, banking around the town in the twilight for one last try, and -

The Red Raven looked up from a tree. "Ah, crap..."

The next day neither Victor or Christophe could get out of the meetings they had scheduled, Yakov nearly purple in the face from Victor unexpectedly shirking his responsibilities. Victor had fidgeted through all of them, his mind so obviously elsewhere that Yakov rather regretted dragging his son to the meetings in the end, as useless as Victor had been. In fairness however everyone was eager to finish for the day and return home; it was the eve of Yuletide. Victor returned to his chambers, exhausted and despairing, trying to will himself into spending another long night trying to find -

Makkachin was by the open window, wagging his tail excitedly, listening... then he turned his head at Victor's entry, barked happily and bounded over to his master, jumping up to lick Victor's face even more enthusiastically than usual. Then just as Victor managed to get him to settle, and went to the open window to close it against the cold, the clever dog went to the wardrobe and pulled out one of Victor's coats, and sat there waiting for Victor to put it on.  _Come on!_

Makkachin was so insistent on going there was no time to get Christophe too, or even the map, but...

"Makkachin, do you... do you know the way?" Victor asked his poodle, raising his voice against the cool winter wind.

As if answer, Makkachin banked a little to the right, adjusting.

In the dark, Victor found himself forgiving himself; he couldn't see a thing, could barely make out one town from another, but now that he was more familiar with it, he could finally see the outline of the Ribenhai River, or rather the black between the ports of Daizufu and Urajio, the two major towns lit up from the nightlife. Now that he'd been there he recognised Kara when they flew over, and then...

"Makka -"

He saw the bird - a raven? - first, flying ahead, leading the way - and then the forest just  _appeared_ before him, as though it had been there the entire time and a veil had been removed from Victor's face. Makkachin yelped as the branches of the trees caught at him, doing his best to follow the raven through, and then -

Victor braced himself. He recognised that bank.

Even though he'd foreseen it, Makkachin's paws hit the bank hard and he gave an undignified yelp as he rolled down it once again, scrambling for balance with his giant legs, trying not to hurt Victor on his back too, and then they were sliding once again over the frozen lake. When they came to a stop, Makkachin gave a warbled woof, as if to say... they really needed to find another way to land.

 _They found it_... Victor's eyes swam with emotion as he looked around them. He got off Makkachin's back - "Makka, we did it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" - and clung to his fur to stay upright.  _Was he here?_ Victor looked around them again, his heart nearly bursting with hope and -

"Wh-what are you doing here...?"

Victor turned and...  _oh_.

 _Finally_...

The skater - it  _was_ the boy he met, years ago, Victor was certain, stopped questioning it. The boy had grown up, was far taller than he had been five years ago, all the baby fat gone from his sleek frame, but that face... his roundness of his cheeks... the shape of his eyes... it really was him...  _he'd finally found him_...

"I..."

Victor blinked. In all this time, he had never once really thought about what he would say if he found the boy again, much less what he would say to the skater that had caught his attention at the festival.

The boy -  _man_ now, he was grown up now - looked... he looked so nervous. Those brown eyes were blown wide with disbelief, and he had his hands clutched up at his chest protectively. Panic flittered through his face and he took a step back in his skates, getting ready to run -

"No! Please, wait, don't go -  _oof_!"

Victor took a step forward and immediately slipped and fell flat on his front, banging his chin on the ice.  _Damnit_... he heard the scratch of skates on the ice, and he screwed his eyes up with despair.  _Please don't run again_...

"Ano... are you alright...?"

Victor opened his eyes immediately, surprised, and looked up. Instead of skating away, the young man had hesitantly skated forward, leaning forward inquisitively, his brow furrowed with shy concern.

"Yes, I..." Victor still had no idea what to say. He carefully tried to get up, but his feet struggled to get purchase without blades to grip with. A trembling, gloved hand reached out - all elegant long fingers and a small palm - and Victor looked up again, surprised again. He took the young man's hand with a grateful smile, and let himself be pulled up.

The young man looked at him - in his skates, and tense with nerves, he was equal height with Victor - with absolute wonder, and... he looked like he was terribly afraid he was going to wake up any moment. Victor sympathised. But his hand - he hadn't let go, to help keep Victor upright - was real, warm, and soft. Victor smiled and gave his hand a quick shake, like a formal greeting. "I'm Victor."

The young man looked down at their clasped hands - right holding right - and blushed. Oooh... he looked so cute when he blushed. Victor's heart fluttered in his chest. Like a hummingbird.

"I... I'm..." The young man suddenly shook his head, grimacing at himself, and then looked up with surprising determination. He shook Victor's hand too. "Tosuu. I'm Tosuu Yuri."

_I know. I've been looking for you everywhere._

Victor didn't say that. But he did smile beatifically, which melted Yuri's serious frown away. "Pleased to meet you, Yuri."

Words defeated the unknowing Lord Katsuki Yuri, blushing at Victor's informality... and then he answered with a matching smile.

From the trees, the Red Raven smiled too. "Well... this will be interesting."

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note by the way: all location names are deliberate, not made up, though admittedly only as accurate as Wikipedia:
> 
> Piter - I don't need to explain that one, do I?  
> Kara - I suspect I don't need to explain that one either...
> 
> Turicum is the Roman name of what became Zurich.  
> Dazaifu is an old name for Fukuoka.  
> Urajio is the Japanese name for Vladivostok. (Obviously Fukuoka is directly opposite Vladivostok in real life, but it is the closest major city to Karatsu.)  
> The Ribenhai River is the anglo spelling for the Sea of Japan. Obviously a bit bigger than a river, but anyhoo.
> 
> As for the rest - Wiryeseong, Vesvius, Praha and Tkaronto - well, I'm sure you can all figure those ones out ;-)
> 
> Ooooh I loved writing this... I watched Yuri's Onsen On Ice Eros performance so many times to get this right! It's been a long road to solidifying what this chapter would look like, and finding Sefa Emre Īlikili's rendition of Eros made everything fall into place. The original plan was for them to meet properly the first time, but... Yuri was a bit young then, it would have been a bit weird.
> 
> From this point on, chapter formats will probably look a little different, given that... well, one timeframe now. The alternating focus in narrative will continue however, looking forward to switching between them now that they're finally together (well, not quite, but you know what I mean).
> 
> Please let me know what you think... genuinely, please do. This is obviously a very big development in the story; please let me know if it's worked.
> 
> In other news... I have a very big job interview to teach in Japan in early September. I really, really bloody want this job... please wish me luck! Thank you to everyone who has been wishing me luck so far, it really does mean a lot.


	11. 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was worried that I wasn't going to get this ready for my own deadline... then it kind of just wrote itself...
> 
> Really hoping that what follows... is alright... oddly, I'm not actually sure...
> 
> God, I hope this works...

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

In the world you know, there are only touches of the Other. Like... a dog that can expand to the size of a stallion, and can fly, and... err... and is invisible whilst doing so. (The Red Raven was really having her fun with that one... tch.) Like the powers that the Hasetsu Ninjas tap into to fold through space with energetic snaps. Like a bamboo forest that protects those within.

Well, that last is not the best example, but here is what you need to know: that which the bamboo protects  _from_... is Something Terrible.

And it is our fault.

But we'll come to that. Firstly, examine the case of one who walks across both This World and the Other.

Compare: fairies simply pop into existence. When they do, they do so fully-fledged, perfectly aware that the reason they have no memories is because they have made none, and then they go to fulfill the purpose to which they were called for. Some have short existences, subsequently. Others, like the Three Grand Prix Fairies, have bigger callings. They do not grow; they were never children, or will age and wither.

Wizards however... wizards are  _born_.

Georgi Popovich was born a man, centuries ago, to a relatively affluent family in Piter. Back then, Kings and Princes ruled with greater authority; the clans came later, taking advantage of power absences during lesser reigns. Popovich was the first, that they knew, to have magic in his family, and his cultivation of his magic earned him his immortality; greater power like this self-sustains. Back then however, before it became clear that he would never age and his generation had all died out, Georgi was the puppet of those who would have use for his magic; he was unlucky in those he met, and thus... he was no saint. Those who thought they could control him, he who was so much more powerful... well, they got what was coming to them in the end. Sympathy is not recommended, except perhaps for those who had to clean up after.

Once able to pursue his own agenda, Georgi picked better causes, even if his methods remained... blood-thirsty. But the Higher Plains... they're not as white as you imagine. For a long, long while, Georgi made a home there. His talent for strife served a purpose, earned him compliments for jobs well done, and otherwise he was relatively free to do as he pleased. As long as he behaved.

It was lonely.

He created a familiar from a normal black raven, and was somewhat shocked to discover that, unlike him, Mila Babicheva was never going to be a puppet to anyone. For as long as Georgi amused her, she would stick around for the entertainment, he quickly understood. Good luck to him if he tried to make her feel  _grateful_ ; she wasn't, not really. Life as a raven had been fine - with a small, avian brain, she hardly minded - and now with far greater consciousness and power, life was still very amenable. But she was never going to be thankful for something she hadn't asked for.

Lucky for Georgi, Mila took a liking to the wizard anyway, and his daft ways, and she was not entirely without good manners; she was grateful for the company, for the mischief, for the feasts he shared with her, and was humble when he was grateful for the same in kind. They became friends of her own free will, and she came and went at her own choosing. They had a lot of fun, causing mayhem, looking for trouble. They did this for centuries, but...

Immortality, no matter how it is earned, is... lonely. And this is where everything went wrong.

In the pit of the world, Something Terrible festers. Born out of every malignancy of humanity, it curdles and rots and coils. Think... think of all the horrific things that we have ever done to each other, from the grand scales of wars to all the mundane cruelties... think of the last time you hated someone, or laughed at someone's expense, said something you shouldn't have. People are mean to each other all the time, out of sheer  _boredom_. Apparently, being spiteful takes up less energy than kindness. Well, for that rot beneath the earth... it  _is_ energy.

We are capable of some truly wonderful things for our fellow human beings. We must be. If virtue must be balanced with vice... the scales are overladen. Or... at least... please may that be so.

(... It is so. Just as malice collects and sinks, so too do random acts of kindness. But they do not sink... they _rise_.)

But from this...  _evil_... some times it spits something out to walk the earth. Perhaps we do not do enough horrible things to each other, and the monsters go forth to make up the deficit. Maybe it just gets bored too. Maybe this is its way of re-producing. One should not worry too much about the whys when it comes to chaos. What one should worry about... is that some times, it answers the worst of people's prayers.

And Georgi prayed to meet his match. The Higher Plains ignored him. So _it_ created one for him, and gave it to him. No strings attached, nothing asked for in return. That should have been warning enough.

Anya was beautiful, exactly how Georgi liked. She was feisty, exactly how Georgi liked. And she was made to love him, exactly how Georgi liked. Unfortunately, she was also exceptionally intelligent, also how Georgi liked, and she was powerful, very powerful... he wasn't sure if he really did like that. This combination never boded well; she was smart enough to resent that humans, who are born in the lottery of circumstance, had more free will than she did. There was no escape from it, from what she was created to do. She was made to serve a purpose for someone else... and she hated Georgi for it.

Never more so when she encountered Victor.

This was the future that Anya denied him:

A couple of years after she met Victor, Katsuki Yuri would be born. Exactly as did happen, Victor would toddle around Yuri's nursery with him, laughing with delight. Yuri would never know a life without him; just as their fathers were great friends, so they too would be. They would write letters constantly about skating, about their studies, about their puppies - Yuri would even name his after Victor - and whenever they met they'd be inseparable. As they grew, their adoration for each other would mature as well. The rings they would eventually wear would always be hidden, but eventually the Katsuki-Feltsman alliance would be cemented by Lord Katsuki Yuri's permanent presence in Piter, to represent the interests of his sister, the Katsuki clan leader, and no one would be foolish enough to complain too much about the fact that they were  _literally_ in bed with each other.

It would not be perfect - there would plenty of doubts and false starts and mistakes made along the way - but at least they would have been together all their lives, would have known love until they were dust.

How dare they... how dare they have something so beautiful, when Anya had such an ugly love... So she too prayed, and just as it did for Georgi, the evil answered.

The love that took Victor's mother away from the palace was an answer to a very different prayer; her own. The plague that killed her and her lover was not. The stable boy was taught that pleasure was taken without consideration. And before he could be spirited away to the protection of the bamboo grove, enough damage was done to make Katsuki Yuri forever doubt whether he deserved anything bright at all...

But for many years the evil was frustrated, for as long as Katsuki Yuri remained under the protection of the bamboo - whose purity is granted from the same thing that makes fairies pop into existence - Anya's prayer remained unanswered. It was not used to being thwarted like that. The darkness tried to seep through, wracked Yuri's mind and body with nightmares, but...

Here is the lesson to take with you into the World: for those whose minds are infected with plague... there is no better remedy than love. If ever you find yourself blessed with someone like Yuri, love them and hold on to them.

_Brighten their future._

* * *

20

* * *

It was a long journey back home.

Yuri spent much of the long carriage ride to Urajio either staring numbly out of the window, or slept with his head on top of Phichit's (he was too tall now to fit his head on to Phichit's shoulder without it aching terribly very quickly). They got into Urajio just in time for the last ferry across the river to Dazaifu, to get the overnight coach that would take them all to Kara, and Cousin Mariko stayed on the carriage to continue on to Hasetsu, due to arrive before dawn. Yuri collapsed into his familiar bed with considerable relief, glad that he was not expected back at the bookshop for a few days - originally they were going to stay in Piter to enjoy the Yule festivities, but he just wanted to come home. Phichit didn't mind; he'd seen the festivities many times in his life, and Mariko couldn't stay in any case, expected back at the family onsen in Hasetsu.

Yuri slept, on and off, for over a day. Phichit let him; for such a massive testing of Yuri's nerves, this was about normal. It was certainly not the worst; Yuri ate a little of the food that Phichit left out of him, came down eventually for tea, had a long soak in the bath. Then he slept again, dreamlessly. The house was still.

The day after, they went into town to get the last few things for their own Yule celebrations. Many shops were already shut up for the holidays, would not reopen until the new year, like the bookshop, but on Yule's Eve the grocers was open for a last few hours before an early lunch time close. Yuri was quiet, but Phichit got to enjoy the faint smile of Yuri's face as he paid for a glass bottle of milk, a small parcel of bacon, and a bag of flour for their feast tomorrow all with his own money, with coin he had earned himself. It all went into a bag that he had sewn himself from cloth they had recycled, and carried himself. Then, when the main street began to empty as families locked up to go home, Yuri and Phichit did the same, and Phichit nattered away as the two peeled spuds together, prepared the turkey centrepiece, baked a Yule cake.

"- Leo had better not be late tomorrow, or moan about us starting if he is anyway -"

Yuri still didn't say much, but he listened, chuckled quietly. His face was still hollowed out from the emotional spend in Piter, but the colour was beginning to return to his cheeks, and his hands were nimble with the knife as he sliced and chopped. Phichit would have worried if he couldn't pay attention to such mundane tasks; Yuri's concentration was often the first thing to go, and would be the last to return in full. Smiles could be faked with enough energy, but not his concentration. There was something fundamentally healing about cooking and baking, once one started, particularly knowing that it would be for loved ones to enjoy together. Even though Yuri barely had any appetite, at least he could feel proud of having created something that would wet the appetites of his guardians upon their return home.

Phichit knew that Yuri was alright when he said he was going to skate before he went to bed. That suited Phichit just fine; he still hadn't wrapped Guang Hong and Leo's presents. And he hadn't figured out when and where to leave the things that Hotei-osho was meant to bring Yuri; Guang Hong had  _insisted_ that Hotei-osho didn't _actually_ come and  _he_ had been the one to put presents in stockings every year, and that even Yuri knew that. Phichit refused to believe that, but... just in case... he hated admitting it, but the Xin fairy was rarely wrong about these things...

Whilst Phichit struggled with that... Yuri approached the ice warily.

On Yule's Eve, it looked beautiful. Misty white, lit by blinking fireflies, the ice itself glowing ethereally. The anxiety in Yuri's chest spiked; he didn't know whether he felt guilty for betraying the ice with his performance in Piter, or... or if he had been the one betrayed.

He sighed, breathed deeply, and saved the thought for later.  _Don't think about that now_ , he thought.  _Just... just skate_.

So he tucked his hakama into his skates, laced up, and slowly shuffled forward and closed his eyes the instant he glided over the ice. The betrayal was gone; friends forgive.

Yuri didn't skate his routine, or any choreography that evening. He warmed up with some laps, and then... just let his blades take him where they wanted to go, released to thought...

_I messed up that salchow - yes, but... Phichit said I was the only one doing quadruple-turned jumps... how is that possible that no one else was doing those too? I... I thought... all this time... that... that everyone could do them, that... that I was an idiot for not being able to do them all the time... but... if others like me don't do them, even at a performance for Lord Yakov Feltsman (oh god...) then... then..._

Yuri came out of a spin that he didn't even realise he was doing, and pushed for speed, crossing the ice smoothly.  _Yes, move forward, good, thoughts were just going round and round in the spin, going nowhere._ He spread-eagled his blades and then hopped into a jump, just a simple two and a half turns, landing lightly, continuing on.  _That went alright_ _... can you...?_

He sped up, controlled his speed, pictured in his head what he wanted to -  _one, two, three!_

He jumped again, spinning fast in the air like a top, and landed, arms flung out for balance, like wings... he didn't touch down this time.

"Oh..." Yuri tilted his head back, hiding his eyes behind the heels of his palms. There was relief - he  _could_ do the quadruple salchow after all, had done plenty of times before - that was then matched with irritation -  _why couldn't you pull that off a few days ago in Piter?!_

_Next time, I'll -_

Yuri ground to a scratching halt. "Next time...?" He couldn't help but whisper back to himself. Next time... next time...

_Is there going to be a 'next time'...?_

Yuri had thought that Phichit and Mariko were playing with him when they'd said that he'd been invited to other festivals and exhibitions, and had been startled to find that the offers were genuine. He hadn't known what to do with them, so he had put them to one side, ignored them until he knew how he felt about the offers... he still didn't, other than...

_I... I don't want to go through that again..._

Yuri was glad that he'd had to chance to skate in front of an audience like that, for all his other emotions about his performance. He would always regret that it wasn't precisely how he had wanted it to be, but... he was glad that Phichit and Mariko got to be there, that they got to see him skate like that in Piter, not just his demonstrations on the frozen lake. But... it was a long way to go to let himself down, and...

And...

 _And there's only_ _one person I want to see my skating like that... and that's never going to happen... I'll never get to hear him say that it was 'perfect' again..._

And if that was the case... then Yuri wasn't sure why he would want to take part in these other exhibitions. What would be the point?

"I don't know..."

There were so many things he didn't know, but wished he did. He wished he knew who that boy with the silver hair was. He wished he knew where he was now, what he looked like now, five years on. Was he... was he happy now? He seemed so... sad, that short moment that Yuri realised that he was there. Yuri couldn't even be sure that he had been... it was just a gut feeling. And what was the creature that had been with the boy, the shadow that was so humungous?

Yuri hung his head. No point in thinking that again... he had to forget about him. What good was there, in thinking of him still? None... none...

He took a deep breath, began to get into position to go through steps when -

_What the...?!_

Something...  _big_... crashed through the tree tops, yelping indignantly. Yuri's eyes widened with shock as a gigantic dog rolled out of the forest on to the ice, and slid in a sprawl. When the -  _is that a... poodle?_ \- came to a halt a few yards away, it gave an unhappy, complaining woof. Then -  _oh god_ \- someone rolled off the back of the giant poodle and...

He'd heard that voice only once before. But he'd never forgotten it.

"Makka, we did it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Yuri stared, aghast, at... _it can't be_... "Wh-what are you doing here...?"

The man turned and...  _oh_.

It... it really was him... there was no possible way it wasn't. He'd grown taller in the years, his shoulders broader, truly a man now. His hair was almost completely gone, but silver still hung over his eyes... those eyes hadn't changed at all... they were still the bluest thing Yuri had ever seen...

He was still beautiful in a way that just didn't seem real... wait... he couldn't be real...

"I..."

Somehow hearing his voice just made it worse. Yuri couldn't believe it...  _it's a dream... a nightmare... a_ taunt _... after everything that's happened over the last few days... he can't be here..._  Yuri took a step back, meaning to flee, hoping he'd wake -

The man's eyes widened in panic. "No! Please, wait, don't go -  _oof_!"

Yuri winced as the man immediately slipped on the ice, banging his chin hard.  _Ooh that looked painful..._ The man even closed his eyes in...  _oh... that's not... that doesn't look like pain... why... why does he look so sad...? Oh..._ Yuri froze, realising. He'd asked him to wait...  _don't go_...

Without even thinking, Yuri pushed forward, closer. "Ano... are you alright...?"

The man opened his eyes with surprise and looked up at him. "Yes, I..." Yuri watched nervously for a moment as the man tried to stand, but his hands couldn't find purchase, his feet slipping under him, unable to balance. Again without thinking, Yuri offered a gloved hand, and braced himself as the man took it.

His hand... it was solid, warm...  _real_... For a moment, Yuri wished he wasn't wearing gloves, so he could feel his skin...  _wait, what?! Argh, no, why are you thinking that?! Oh..._

The man shook his hand, smiling. Yuri's eyes widened for a split second.  _Crap... his smile... it's... it's heart-shaped... it... it looks so... I don't know!_

"I'm Victor."

Yuri couldn't look at the man's - Victor... Victor... it... the name suited him...  _concentrate!_ \- smile, instead he looked down at their clasped hands -  _why hasn't he let go?! Oh, because otherwise he'll fall... right... wait, he'd just given his name... what do I say now?!_

_Your name? Duh._

"I... I'm..."

 _Oh wow. You're really messing this up -_ _SHUT UP!_ Yuri grimaced at himself, suddenly furious.  _Don't you dare ruin this!_ He yelled back at the traitorous voice, the one that always made him feel terrible at the worst of moments.

_Come on, Yuri... go for it!_

He looked up, determined. He shook Victor's hand in return. "Tosuu. I'm Tosuu Yuri."

_There we go!_

Victor said nothing, making Yuri panic for a moment.  _Was... was that the wrong thing to say?!_ And then he smiled again. "Pleased to meet you, Yuri."

_Wait... what? 'Yuri'? That... that's a bit... familiar... why didn't he call me 'Tosuu'? That... oh, umm... do you really care about that? Come on, Yuri. He could call you 'Little Piggy' and you wouldn't care too much._

_Cute._

_Eh?_

_Cute. That... that's what his smile is. Cute..._

And with that thought, Yuri smiled unreservedly back.

Until he panicked again.  _Oh god... if his smile looks as perfect as that... what on earth did you just look like then?! It was all closed eyes and too much teeth, wasn't it?! Crap! Stop smiling!_ Yuri blushed to the same shade as a tomato. Then he realised; it was his turn to say something. "Oh! I... erm..." Yuri remembered his manners, and bowed formally over their clasped hands. "Pleased to meet you too, Victor... err...?"

He looked up, realising that Victor hadn't given his family name, and started as Victor flinched. He blushed again -  _crap, what did I just do wrong?!_

Nothing, really.

* * *

...

* * *

Victor felt dizzy. It didn't help that his balance wasn't his own, clinging to Yuri's hand. But he'd gone from elation at the sight of Yuri's smile -  _what a wonderful smile!_ \- to...

He was horrified. The moment that Yuri bowed, he was horrified. It felt so terribly, terribly  _wrong_.

_I don't want you to bow to me..._

Which meant...  _oh god... what do I tell him... what do I tell him my name is...?_

If Victor told Yuri the truth, that his name was Lord Victor Feltsman, it... it would ruin everything.

Victor had never liked it when people bowed to him. It was... alienating. Not only did it make people submit to their place below him, it forced him out of their reach. As a child, having adults bow to him had always made him feel uncomfortable. The servants remained servants, rather than just people that his father paid a wage to help in the palace. Even other children at school had had to bow to him, dependent on their rank, and very few outranked him (and many of those few  _enjoyed_ seeing Victor bow to them... hardly the right material for potential friends). The members of the Feltsman court all bowed to him, but the respect it was meant to show was false.

He didn't want Tosuu Yuri, the incredible skater from the Yule exhibition, the boy he had been searching for for years... he didn't want him treating Victor as though he were not... were not his equal. Victor had been looking for him for so long because he'd wanted to... he'd been so curious. He'd wanted to get to know him, to see him skate more, to be... to be friends.

That wouldn't be possible as Lord Feltsman... The lie jumped into Victor's mouth before he could really think it through. "Nikiforov..."

"... Huh?" Yuri blinked with confusion, and Victor realised his answer had taken an awkward amount of time.

"My... my name. It's Victor Nikiforov."

_... Forgive me... it's... it's not a complete lie..._

"Woof!"

Startled from his guilty thoughts, Victor turned and laughed freely at the sight of Makkachin trying to crawl closer, wanting to be introduced too. He tentatively let go of Yuri's hand, balancing awkwardly with his arms stretched out. "Hang on, pup!"

Makkachin's legs scrambled beneath him, but he still couldn't get a grip, and eventually the enormous dog gave up, whimpering pathetically. Victor slowly stepped forward towards Makkachin's big head, and stroked the bridge of his nose when he finally could reach. "Can you change back? That might be easier. I could then carry you? What do you want to do, Makka?"

The dog blinked at him, as though it had completely forgotten that it could be smaller, and that that might make things easier. He gave a bark, and then shook his fur with glee, shrinking down. With a laugh, Victor leant down, slipped again as he did, banging his knee on the ice - behind him, Yuri gave an involuntary cry and skated forward to help, making Victor's heart skip - and he picked Makkachin up. It was an awkward hold; Yuri had to grab him by his elbows to help him back to his feet, and as he turned -

"Makkachin!"

"ARGH!"

The dog gave a joyful bark as he leapt from Victor's arms into Yuri, and the younger man fell backwards as the poodle flung himself at him. Scrambling to try and catch the flying dog, Victor fell again, cushioned by Yuri's legs. With the dog lying on his chest, Yuri couldn't help but giggle as the dog started licking his face with gusto, barking over at Victor, as if to say 'we found him! Look, we found him!'

"I'm so sorry!" Victor exclaimed, not really feeling too sorry, as he crawled back carefully. Yuri was laughing anyway, even as Makkachin stepped on his belly, pushing the air out of him.

"That - oof! - that's alright! Ah!" He stroked the dog's head happily as the poodle wagged his tail and panted in his face happily. "He's cute!"

 _So are you..._ Victor started at his own thoughts, shocked even at himself. _Where on earth did that come from...?_

Except...

At that exact moment, Yuri looked up from stroking Makkachin's fur, and beamed.

_Oh god... he really is cute... more than cute... he's..._

_He's so beautiful I can't look away..._

"What's his name?" Yuri asked, laughing as the poodle licked at his face again. "Makka...?"

Victor gulped as he realised his mouth had gone dry. "Makka... oh! Er... Makkachin!"

Yuri smiled again, scratching his gloved hands behind Makkachin's ears. "That's a nice name. A nice name for a nice dog, eh, Makkachin?" Makkachin barked gleefully in reply, got a little over-excited and scampered off of Yuri to bounce around them, only to slip immediately on the ice next to Victor. Victor laughed and picked up his daft poodle, quieted shyly as Yuri offered a hand up again. Then Yuri blushed, and he seemed to say his next words without thinking. "You know... the first time I saw him... I thought..." He trailed off, as though unsure what he'd really thought.

Victor smiled. It was hardly the first time someone hadn't known what to make of his pet. "I know, he does get a bit... big."

Yuri blinked at him. Well... 'big' was one way of putting it.

"He can fly too!"

"Eh?"

* * *

...

* * *

He hadn't meant to say anything! Yuri had almost said that he thought that Makkachin was a monster the first time he saw him, five years ago. But... he wasn't sure how well that would go with... with Victor...

... And he really didn't want to upset Victor.

So he pursed his lips and said no more about the poodle that had shrunk from the size of a horse that could... fly. Although really all he would have said further about it was...  _how?!_

"Umm... is it alright to...?" Victor nodded towards the edge of the ice, to the grassy bank.

Yuri turned bright red, chastising himself mentally for not thinking that it would be better if Victor was on solid ground sooner. "O-Of course! I... here!" And, after an awkward moment trying to figure out whether to hold Victor's hand -  _no!_ \- or his elbow -  _umm... no!_ \- or push his back -  _definitely not!_ \- Yuri had to settle for a practical solution; he held Victor's left hand in his own, his right arm hovering round Victor's back to catch him. Victor took careful steps across to the nearest edge, holding on to Yuri's hand tightly, and even Makkachin settled warily in Victor's free arm, whimpering eagerly as the shore beckoned.

"I should have brought my skates," Victor said with a laugh as they neared. Finally he put Makkachin down first, and then crawled up the bank, uncaring of the resulting grass stains on his trousers.

Yuri felt self-conscious again. His hakama were worn, stuffed unceremoniously into his skates, with cloth wrapped round his shins to keep them from interfering with his skating and to keep his legs warm, and he'd bound the sleeves of his kimono back, again so they wouldn't flap and ruin his balance during his jumps. He looked and felt like a peasant, all the material on his back practical and undecorated. Meanwhile... meanwhile Victor's clothing was a mess of contradictions. His shirt was fine, but his long coat was old, the material rough and lacking tailoring. His boots were made of beautiful black leather, well polished and glossed; no wonder he kept slipping on the ice. Yet he'd forgone a tie or cravat, as was the style of the northern clans, as though he'd flung the coat on in the middle of dressing, or undressing.

Then there was his name... Nikiforov... If Yuri remembered his reading right, from spending his childhood pouring over the books in the shop, Nikiforov was the name of a highly influential family in Piter. Merchants in fine goods, they had bought their place in high Piter society generations ago... they had even married into the Feltsman clan a couple of times, when the ruling family was running out of money and was in need of record-high dowries.

Which really only begged Yuri's initial question; what was Victor, clearly the son of one of the wealthiest families in all the territories, doing here with Yuri, the orphaned son of no one?

Except... that was absolutely the last thing that Yuri wanted to know, or even to bring to Victor's attention. So he desperately tried to think of something else to ask... wait...

Yuri looked up, his face blanked out with curiosity. "Skates?" Victor looked up at him from fussing over Makkachin, who looked happy to be on solid ground, rolling on his back in the dewy grass. "You... you skate?"

Victor smiled instantly. "I do!" He then looked past Yuri to the frozen lake. "Although, I'm not as lucky as you. I only get to skate in the winter, and when I came here before... it was summer." He turned back to Yuri, his face lit up with wonder. "How...?"

_Umm... my fairy guardian turned the lake to ice for me as a first-day-at-school present...?_

"I... umm... err... hehe..." Yuri turned bright red, scratched at his head, trying his best to look innocent, even as he knew that he was failing terribly.

"Is it magic?"

"Huh?" Yuri started, taken aback by Victor's blunt curiosity. He had spent his entire life keeping his skating a secret from everyone; to explain how he could skate meant explaining the lake's existence, which meant explaining who Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo really were. He'd long accepted from his guardians that everyone was best left in the dark, that the distorting powers of the bamboo would loop anyone's curiosity in their heads so that they never thought too much about the young boy who lived in the bamboo grove. Yuri had always suspected that people just thought the cottage was literally just round the corner, hidden by the first set of bamboo stalks, not a good half-an-hour's walk into the wood. It was always awkward; his friends never thought to go to his house when they were young, only thought to invite him round to theirs to play and do homework together, and Yuri had had to swallow down the desire to return their hospitality. But magic didn't have any place in their lives, and Yuri didn't remember a time anymore when he hadn't been aware of his guardians' abilities or of the strange nature of the forest he lived in.

For his protection, Yuri had always been told. His samurai father had made some powerful enemies, and the three fairies owed it to him to keep his son safe for as long as they could.  _Their honour, privilege and pleasure_ , Phichit had called it, to be his guardians.

In any case, he'd never had this conversation with another person before. Victor... Victor really was incredible...

"It's amazing," Victor gushed, gazing out at the ice again. "Does it never melt at all? Ever?"

"I..." Yuri faltered. Dare he get pulled into this? He went with his gut. "No... no, never."

"Amazing..." Victor said again, looking wistful.

Yuri stared at him. The amazing thing was  _him_ , who hadn't blinked at the idea of a never-melting ice lake, who -

"Woof!"

Oh. Yuri stared at Makkachin, then smiled and stroked the dog's head again. Victor rode a giant, flying poodle who could shrink to normal size. Maybe... maybe the lake was relatively normal for him. After all... it had to be magic that made Makkachin do that too... right?

As if reading Yuri's mind, Victor chuckled. "Don't worry. If... if the lake is meant to be a secret, then really; don't worry. I won't tell." He then laughed outright. "This isn't the strangest thing I've ever seen. When I was little I met some fairies and a wizard! Well... I say 'met'..."

Huh?

* * *

...

* * *

"Damn it..."

Mila swept out a hand, and everything froze. The fireflies, the poodle's panting tongue, the two young men having their first conversation. She fluttered out of the tree and stepped towards them.

"This won't do..."

 _Won't it? Hmm..._ The Red Raven sighed. She didn't have the luxury of time; for starters, it was highly draining, freezing everything like this, and besides it wasn't time itself she was freezing. The world was still ticking along, just nothing within sight. She didn't have time to properly think this through, but...

Katsuki Yuri could not figure out who he was. Not until it was time. He would only be safe here, in the arms of the bamboo, within its reach at the edges of Kara. His little trip to Piter had been a risk, but one they had countered by both her and Phichit Chulanont's presence,  _and_ Guang Hong Ji and Leo de la Iglesia watching through the looking glass she had carried. If anything found them, they would have stepped through and protected the boy. No... Yuri was better off thinking that he was just an orphan for the time being. It wasn't doing him any harm... really.

But Victor... Victor was another matter. The young lord was no fool; at some point, any number of things would make him realise who Tosuu Yuri really was. It could be the coincidence of Yuri's name and age, or any detail that Lady Mari had ever given him - that her brother was hidden, that he was learning to skate, from Victor's own notes even, with his old skates even - or even should Yuri tell him anything about the people who raised him or his relatives.

But she couldn't make Victor forget Katsuki Yuri. If she took his few memories of the baby he had once played with, however faint this memory was from its lack of utility so many years on... she'd rob him of a memory that remained nevertheless bright and happy for him. Likewise so many of the conversations he'd had with Lady Mari about her brother were a founding pillar of their friendship, had cemented their trust in each other... Mila couldn't take those too.

Damn it... damn it, damn it, damn it. How to do this... there was really only one way. Mila touched a single finger to Victor's temple, and ever so carefully focused on her spell.

 _Just don't make the connection_.

She couldn't put a wall in Victor's mind that would separate his thoughts because it would be just as altering as removing his memories. But she could make the jump in his mind between one proposition to its conclusion greater, too great to make. Thoughts would fizzle out, as thoughts often do. Memories that could be triggered could remain sleeping, dormant. It wouldn't be forever - it didn't  _need_ to be forever, just until the curse was done with - but from this point on... Katsuki Yuri would be Katsuki Yuri, and Tosuu Yuri would be Tosuu Yuri.

She saw the spell take root, and blossom almost instantly. She even smiled; awe. She got a glimpse of it... of that innocent memory of baby Yuri in his cot, and Victor turning to Mari and saying he looked like a piglet, and... Tosuu Yuri smiling with all the light of a star, only a minute ago.

As Mila took her finger away, she thought of Anya, and what she had sought to ruin.

Neither the sorceress or the Red Raven believed in fate or destiny, for all their powers, because they knew perfectly well that actually an individual had  _many_ so called fates or destinies, dependent on the choices they made, or the choices that other people made. The outcome of people's lives and futures looked closer akin to the branches of a tree. And yet... for some... no matter how they met a particular someone, the result would always be the same; love.

Of course, love takes many forms. For instance, Yakov Feltsman and Katsuki Toshiya were one such pair; they were always going to get along like a house on fire, regardless of how they came to meet or what happened in their lives. For Yuuko, she could have been the wife of several different husbands, dependent on how things happened... but Nishigori Takeshi was always going to be the only one who made her genuinely happy. The chances of Toshiya meeting Hiroko were slim, almost close to nothing, but he was always going to fall in love with her, and she with him; all that had to happen was that they did meet.

Note however; this only applies to people's  _hearts_. It means absolutely nothing for the choices they make after. The two lords could have bowed to the pressures of their fathers, who had been pitted against each other for years in a costly war that they had inherited from their fathers. Takeshi could have rejected Yuuko's advances, and Toshiya could have left Hiroko where he found her. But none of them did. That had been to their enormous benefit; it does not always work out that way... choosing love over everything else normally doesn't have happy endings.

But perhaps... in this case...

"I'm sorry, my Lord Victor," Mila whispered with a playful smile. Victor didn't hear; it didn't matter after all. "I'm sorry for taking the truth from you. But then... I suspect in a way... you'll be glad I did, given the lie that  _you_ just told..."

The playfulness evaporated, leaving something genuine. She turned, and stared into the face of Katsuki Yuri, frozen in bewilderment. She thought again of futures ruined... of how she had done nothing when Georgi lost his mind and took out his grief on a child who'd never done anything wrong by him and was never going to. They had both done questionable things in their time, but they'd never done that before, and for eighteen years it had preyed on her, this crossing of a line she'd never even thought of messing about with. Perhaps... perhaps finally... this would do something to right that...

"Just be Yuri. And just be Victor. Even if only for a little while."

* * *

...

* * *

Neither of them noticed when Mila released her spell. As far as Yuri was aware, Victor had just told him he'd sort of met fairies and wizards, and Yuri had just pulled a confused face in reaction to Victor's words. The fireflies resumed hovering over the ice, twinkling their luminous behinds, and Makkachin gave a yawn.

So all in all... it was still a bit awkward.

"So..." Victor leant forward, his eyes bright with curiosity. "How did you find this place?"

Yuri gulped. "I... umm... live nearby..."

"In Kara?"

"Umm... not exactly..." Yuri looked away, feeling awkward. He couldn't remember the last time someone had been so interested in him. _Wait... that sounded wrong... no! Not 'interested' like that!_ "I-I live in the forest close by..."

"Oh..." Victor blinked, and blinked again. Yuri frowned, concerned. Victor looked incredibly confused for a moment, as though trying to puzzle something out. Then he must have lost his train of thought, because then he was smiling again. "By yourself, or...?"

Yuri blushed, uncertain how loaded the 'or' was meant to be. "Well... I was raised here... by my guardians."

"Guardians?" Again, Victor blinked, then he frowned. "You mean... what about your family?"

The rest of the night went like this. A back and forth of questions with answers that weren't quite complete, or vague enough to be secure behind. Yuri told Victor that he was an orphan, that his guardians were friends of his father, but that he had relatives who lived in Hasetsu. Victor told him that he lived in Piter, with his father, step-mother and half-brother, that his best friend from school was currently living with them too.

As Yuri sat down on the bank next to him, with Makkachin rolling on his back for belly rubs between them, they traded stories of teachers, Victor bemoaning that he wished he'd had a teacher like Minako-sensei, who Yuri described like a hurricane, yet an inspiring one. Victor could barely remember his old teachers' names anymore, sign enough of the mark they'd left on him. Yuri kept to himself his surprise at how much more studious he had been compared to... well, to someone who clearly had almost unlimited access to knowledge in a way that Yuri could only have dreamt of.

They both said nothing of their professions, and paid each other the courtesy of not asking.

Victor got enough of an impression that Yuri wasn't poor, that he had grown up healthy and his few passions - books, dancing and skating - had been modest enough to be spoilt in, but he wasn't wealthy either. Victor guessed that what Yuri was wearing was his worst, to be chewed up by the ice if need be, but that his best would probably be quite humble. He guessed also that Yuri had a job, one that required his mental faculties and not hard labour, judging from how well Yuri spoke of his education, as though he was grateful for how well it had prepared him for his life.

As for Yuri... he wasn't as good at reading people as Victor was, but he did figure out some things. He figured out that Victor had gone to boarding school, though Victor never said which one. He figured out that Victor was closer to his best friend than he was to his half-brother, but that there were complications in both relationships, and that there was another best friend, a woman, who lived far away but that he respected and trusted wholeheartedly, who he spoke of like a sister. He figured out that Victor bore his step-mother no ill will at all, but that they weren't particularly close, yet not distant either; that Victor did care for her, and she for him. He figured out that there was a story to why there was a step-mother and not his mother, but not what it was, and that Victor wasn't comfortable telling it just yet. But... he was sure that... that Victor did _want_ to tell him.

And in the absence of Victor explaining what he did with his time, other than skating during the winter when the ice had set in Piter... Yuri guessed Victor was probably a socialite... and suspected that perhaps he didn't want to know what Victor got up to. The distance between what Victor did to occupy his time and what Yuri did... Yuri didn't want to go there.

So he took his blissful ignorance for now, and hoped it would last.

_Wait... last?_

When Makkachin's yawns infected both of them, the moon rising high on Yule's Eve, Yuri reluctantly told Victor he ought to go home.

"Oh! Of course, I... I'm sorry, I've kept you from skating tonight," Victor garbled, looking mortified. He stood, brushed grass off his trousers and coat. As he turned to Makkachin to ask him to get ready to go, Yuri's eyes widened with horror.  _No... wait... don't go! I... I don't want this to end..._

He pulled at the laces of his skates quickly, having forgotten to take them off this whole time, yanked them off and slipped his socked feet into his waiting sandals, nearly tripping over his ankles as he raced to stand. There was no need to rush; though Makkachin had returned to his original blown-up size, Victor was waiting for him still, in no hurry to go. "It... it was really nice meeting you, Tosuu Yuri."

Before he could think to mask it, Yuri's face fell. Victor sounded so formal as he said it, so...  _final_. And even though Victor was smiling, it... it looked... wrong... it wasn't heart-shaped...  _It's fake..._

"I... it was really nice meeting you too, Victor."

The corners of Victor's mouth twitched at Yuri's informality.

There was an awkward silence. Then...

"Can I s-"

"Will I s-"

They both stopped, startled at each other's false starts. Then... then they both smiled, giggled even. Then Victor beat Yuri to it. "Yuri?"

"Hmm?" Yuri tried not to hope.

"May I come back and see you again?"

_... Oh..._

Yuri tried his hardest not to smile as widely as he wanted to. He... he didn't think he'd ever been so happy. "Yes. Of course. I..." The smile escaped him; he couldn't help it. "I'd like that."

Victor smiled back, that heart-shaped smile that Yuri realised was the real thing. "I'd like that too." Then he frowned. "I... I'm not sure when. It's... well, it's Yule tomorrow." He didn't say it was his birthday as well. As far as he was concerned, he'd been given the best birthday present ever a day early. "And... it was really difficult to find this place."

"Oh..." That took Yuri by surprise. He didn't know what to make of that last, how many implications it truly held. Had... had Victor been looking for him? But... that couldn't possibly... Yuri clenched his fists to stave off his thoughts. _Focus_. "Umm... I'm pretty sure that... now that you have found this place, you should be able to find it again. Th-That's what my guardians always said."

"Really?" Victor seemed to deflate with relief for a moment. "I really hope so!" Then he turned to Makkachin, whose giant head he was now level with. "What do you think, Makka? Can you find your way back again?"

Makkachin barked twice, confidently, and the two men chuckled. Yuri gazed at them both, at the giant poodle and his extraordinary owner, who had been so full of eager questions all evening, who had gobbled up every morsel of information Yuri gave him as though he wanted to know everything about him. No one ever asked him questions about himself.

Yuri had always told himself to not hope for too much. Yet he knew that... well, it was too late now. "I'll be here, every night after Yule. I skate most nights anyway, but... I'll make sure of it. I'll be here."

Victor stared at him, in awe. He... Victor really wanted to jump forward to hug him. He was so worried he might not make it back to the frozen lake... worried that he might miss Yuri again... but... it sounded like a promise.

He stepped forward, his right hand stretched out in offering. "In that case, I'll do my upmost to come back as soon as I can."

Yuri stared at his hand in amazement for a moment, then up at Victor, and then... _oh, that smile_. That smile was the most adorable thing Victor had ever seen; Yuri looked so happy. Yuri took his hand. "Then I'll see you soon."

They both smiled happily at each other, before realising that they were just holding hands, hadn't even shaken. As Victor stepped away, climbed on to Makkachin's back, they both looked at each other again one last time, and both swallowed the same thought:

 _I'm so glad you found me_.

_I'm so glad I found you._

And then Victor left, and Yuri's smile drained away as he watched him fly away. There was a reason why he tried not to hope for things; it would always make him petrified that his hopes were for nought.

On the flip side, up above towards the stars, Victor hugged Makkachin's neck and almost cried for joy. For the first time in a very long time, Victor had something to hope for, and the future finally held promise.  _I'm so glad I found you_ , he thought again.

Below...

_Please find me again... please..._

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... umm...
> 
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.
> 
> It... it was really difficult, writing this section. The first bit was easy, SO EASY, and then... I have no idea why, there were a lot of writer's blocks for this. There are so many parts after this where I know exactly what will happen and I'm confident about them... this however... yep, nope...
> 
> I'm slightly worried it's too sweet... 8-/


	12. XXI-XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT'S LATE!!!!!!!
> 
> This chapter was a PAIN... I really don't know why, but it was. Not a pain as in to write, but it was very stubborn coming forth. Now that it's finished...
> 
> I'm actually quite happy with it. Particularly the ending :-) that just typed itself, five minutes before I posted.
> 
> Please enjoy, and let me know what you think x

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XXI

* * *

On Yule's Eve, Victor returned home just before his father began the first of his Yule duties, so that when Lord Yakov went round the palace - yes, the servants too, 'Saint Nicolas' visits all - it was to find his son doing exactly what he had done as a child; pretending to sleep because he was too excited. This year however for a very different reason.

_I found him, I found him, I found him!_

Christophe had guessed by the end of breakfast; Victor was so giddy, there could only be one reason why. The first moment he could Christophe grabbed Victor into a quiet corner. "Did you...?" Victor just nodded. Christophe's eyes widened, and then he grinned so widely he even started laughing, pulling his friend into a celebratory hug. "When are you seeing him again?" He whispered before they went back to the Yule tree.

Not soon enough, it felt.

Miles away Yuri barely slept, unable to contain his own smile. It was the strangest feeling; he kept telling himself to bring it under control. In the past, happy moments were always made bitter by the anxiety that would swiftly follow, as though his mind simply didn't have the energy to sustain happiness. This however... this felt different.

He woke late to find all his guardians at the kitchen table, all excitedly catching up on each other's adventures. Yuri spent the entire day half in a daze, only to be made instantly happy again when he came back down to earth to find his family around him, reunited if only for a day. Their Yule was modest compared to the one celebrated by the Feltsmans, but this year the Three Grand Prix Fairies were determined to go all out, to celebrate properly being together again after months apart. They had waited for Yuri to come down before breakfast, scrambling duck eggs in butter from the Leroy lands, Phichit excitedly opening a bottle of sparkling wine from Vesvius. Guang Hong brought chocolates from Turicum, and Leo wrapped up his sleeves gleefully to return to the stove like old friends meeting again.

That Yule, the fairies gave Yuri something he had never expected to receive: one of their crystal balls that they used to communicate with. It fit into the palm of Yuri's hand, was black when not in use, and then startling clear when they showed him how it worked, their faces in defined miniature even though they sat on the other side of the fire. Yuri's guardians explained that it could be used to speak directly, their faces showing, or just simply to talk through, or if they were not immediately available Yuri could think of a message to be left for any of them to 'read' later.

"I... I'm afraid you're going to need one..." Phichit said, looking the saddest Yuri had ever seen him.

Yuri's expression said everything; he understood exactly what his guardian was telling him. "When... when do you have to go?"

Tears filled Phichit's eyes. At his side, Leo put a hand on his shoulder for support. "S-Soon... right after the new year. I... I've put things off for too long."

Guang Hong looked up from his mug of hot cocoa. "The three of us... have a mission. It will take some time, I'm afraid."

Yuri smiled sadly. "I... I understand."

Leo leaned forward. "We'll all come and see you when we can. We promise. If you ever need us, call our names and we'll hear; you don't need the crystal for that. We'll come."

Yuri sighed wistfully. He couldn't quite believe that; for all his guardians' powers he couldn't picture how that would be possible. "Really?"

Phichit grabbed Yuri's hand, making Yuri's breath catch in surprise. His favourite guardian - his best friend - looked up at him with such determination that Yuri really did believe it. " _Really. We'll come_." He gave a strained smile. "Even if you think it's too much trouble, it really won't be."

Yuri tightened his fingers threaded with Phichit's, and smiled brightly. "Alright. I'll call. I promise."

Later that night, when everyone had retired early to fall into food-comas, Yuri quietly snuck out of the cottage and tried not to run to the lake. Just... just in case.

There was no one there. Yuri chastised himself; Victor had said he probably wouldn't be able to come so soon, he should not have hoped that... stupid, _stupid_. Then he gazed out over the ice, and tried to ignore the knot in his stomach... the night before... it really had happened... hadn't it?

Victor didn't come the next night either. It was possibly for the best; that afternoon his guardians had asked if they could see him skate. 'One last time' went unsaid, and Yuri felt like he was disappointing them a little; he still felt too bloated from all the food they had eaten the day before, and were in the slow process of finishing off. So much meat... he'd already decided that he was going to start the new year eating only vegetables or fish, even if he had to go to Dazaifu to get it fresh.

The next day Cousin Mariko, Uncle Toshiryu and Aunt Hirokei came, only for the day. Which was absolutely lovely, Yuri was very, very happy to see them, but Aunt Hirokei did what she always did, which was brought _more_ food. His uncle nearly did his back in bringing in the bag of rice, and Yuri had no idea what he was going to do with all the daikon ("I grow these myself!" She said with considerable pride, as though growing her own vegetables was to be unexpected). She'd made mochi, brought the sencha that she knew Yuri liked, incense...

Yuri's aunt had gone a little... over-board.

"This is barely _half_ of what she wanted to bring," Cousin Mariko whispered gravely to Yuri, catching his wide-eyed shock at the gifts. Awkwardly, it was very difficult to thank his aunt, because she was busy complimenting the three fairies on their post-Yule spread.

Before they left, Cousin Mariko pulled Yuri to one side, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Feeling better after...?" The last she had seen him, only a week ago, he'd still had the shakes from his anxiety after his performance in Piter.

Yuri smiled genuinely, and nodded. "Hmm! I am. Ano..." And then he really did surprise her; he hugged her, of his own volition. "Thank you for taking me. I... _truly, thank you_. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough."

Mari just smiled and rubbed her brother's back. For once, the great Lady Katsuki Mari, renown for demolishing men with her sharp wit, was without words. Then she managed to choke out something. "Thank me by looking after yourself."

She wasn't the only one worried.

"Will he really be alright?" Lady Hiroko wondered aloud to her husband as they travelled in their own carriage back to Hasetsu.

Lord Toshiya looked uncommonly subdued. "The fairies all believe that he'll be safe in the forest. We have all felt the effects when the bamboo has not yet invited you in -" The ladies Hiroko and Mari both pulled faces in remembrance, remembering their first visit to see Yuri. "- so I find it hard to believe anything could withstand it long enough to find Yuri." He raised his wizened head and rubbed his wife's hand in his. "We must have faith in the fairies' mission, and in the safeguards they have used all this time. Maybe however..." And he smiled at his daughter. "Maybe we'll all try and visit more often, when we can."

Mari chuckled. "Except we won't bring so much food next time."

The house quieter, and the fairies all tired from hosting, Yuri snuck out to skate as he always did. He tried not to hope...

"Yuri!"

Victor was already there. The sight of his smile took Yuri's breath away momentarily, and he utterly forgot himself again, smiling widely. He even jogged the rest of the way, round the edge of the lake to his new friend's side. "Victor!" He came to an awkward stop before the taller man, drawing his hands back nervously to his chest. "Ē to... g-good evening."

Victor beamed. "Good evening, Yuri! How was your Yule? Makkachin, get down!"

It was easy. Yuri couldn't believe sometimes how easy it was. Victor was bubbling over with energy; all he had to do was follow Victor's excited lead, listen to everything he said and answer his ever-curious questions. And follow his actual lead; Victor remembered to bring his skates.

In another world, in another time... who knows how things might have been. But in this one, Victor would argue emphatically that Yuri was the better skater. Yuri would blush so badly he'd go over lightheaded, and the only thing he'd be capable of would be to deny it, to argue that the superior skater was Victor.

Oh... excuse me. In another world and time, they'd probably do that too. The point however was that they came together with almost clean slates... and Yuri still refused to believe in his own abilities.

There is not a single world however in which Yuri didn't cherish every minute he had skating with Victor, or a single world in which Victor did not do the same with Yuri. Skating together was... like a dream come true.

"How did you learn to skate like that?!" Victor gushed after Yuri came out of a spin, back curved and leg up so high he could grab his own skate over his head.

Yuri almost fell over. "Ano... I umm..." Some times however it was incredibly hard to talk to Victor. "I... err... my cousin has a friend who skates, she got me lots of notes from him..."

"Huh..." Victor flinched at the deja vu. It reminded him of Mari, of giving her notes on how to skate to pass on to her brother. Thanks to the Red Raven's spell however, the penny just would not drop.

Then Yuri distracted him by being unbearably cute; he smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. "And umm... I spent a lot of my spare time growing up practicing..." Then he turned bright red as he realised he was admitting that he skated as well as Victor was implying. "Not that -! Victor, you're better than I am, and you didn't have... well..." And he looked down at the ice they were both glided upon, his trailed off sentence completed;  _you didn't have ice 365 days of the year._

Victor preened at the compliment - unlike Yuri, who couldn't accept a compliment to save his life, Victor  _basked_ in Yuri's compliments - and sped up, talking to make sure that Yuri kept his eyes on him. "I'm a better jumper perhaps -" And he launched into a flip to demonstrate, landing with flare even and grinning as Yuri gave an excited, gloved clap. "But I'm not anywhere near as expressive as you are. You don't even need music; when you skate, I can hear it."

"... Heh-heh..."

To spare Yuri his heated cheeks, Victor slowed so Yuri could catch up with him, and the pair skated laps round the lake for a while. "Do you have plans for New Year's Eve? I can't remember the customs for it in the Katsuki lands..."

Yuri smiled, grateful for the harmless change of subject. "There's a small temple in Kara; the whole town goes to give thanks to the Gods of the Higher Plain for the blessings of the year ending, and to make wishes for the New Year. It's like a small festival; many of the businesses in Kara set up stalls outside the temple so people can buy street food to snack on. There's fireworks too; my guardians are staying on specially to see them!" Yuri smiled at first at the thought of them - Guang Hong in particular couldn't contain himself at fireworks, the only time he behaved as childishly as his outer shell appeared. Then he realised what he'd just said, and the openings he'd just given to Victor to probe.

But maybe Victor picked up something in Yuri's suddenly anxious expression, and didn't press it too much. "That sounds like a nice night!" He said genuinely.

It did; Christophe was determined that they were going to go into Piter and get up to a lot of trouble, and start the New Year so hungover they couldn't stomach the spread of caviar and salads that his family would enjoy together.  _"When the bells ring in the New Year, Victor, let's find someone to kiss!"_ Christophe had insisted. Victor wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get out of that one, particularly now that... now that...

Before that thought could go too far into dangerous territory, Yuri hung his head, and did something he hadn't done yet; he volunteered something that was mostly true. "They're leaving soon after, on... business."

It took a moment for Victor to realise who Yuri must have been talking about. "Your guardians?" Yuri nodded. "Oh... are they going far?"

 _Yes_ , was the only way to answer that question. Phichit had told Yuri that they were going into The Pit, as he called it. A cruel sorcerer had set a demonic bounty on an innocent's life, the fairy explained, and between the three of Yuri's guardians, they were certain the demon that would carry out the bounty could be found in The Pit. It sounded like... it sounded like they were going to dive into hell to fight the Devil, Yuri thought, but he kept that to himself. He... he didn't want them to worry about him.

"Yes..." Yuri had to think quickly. "They're... they're explorers. It... it might be a long while until they return."

Victor frowned. "They're leaving you behind? Alone?"

Yuri's cheeks pinked. Victor genuinely sounded concerned... Yuri was touched. "I'll be alright. I have a job here, in the town, and..." He smiled genuinely. "They've stayed with me all this time, even though I'm sure they had their own things to get on with. Now that I'm eighteen... it's only right that they get on with their lives again."

"Oh... I see..." Victor had to look away, to make sure that Yuri didn't read his mind...

_Oh thank the Gods, he's of age! I'm not a cradle-snatcher or a pervert or... anything like that!_

Victor quickly thought of something more appropriate to say. "In that case, your New Year's Eve celebrations do sound like a nice way to send them off," he tried, then winced internally, worried that maybe Yuri would miss the sentiment intended, that Victor was glad that they would have a chance to have a really nice time together before Yuri's guardians left.

To his relief, Yuri did understand: he smiled sincerely. "That's what we thought too."

Victor smiled in return. Then, "I'll try to come back soon after they go."  _I don't like the idea of you being alone_ , he thought.

Yuri blushed, but nodded gratefully. "That... that would be nice. Tha-Thank you."

On New Year's Eve Yuri, Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo donned their favourite kimono and went into Kara to feast on yakitori and mochi, and sat together sharing a bottle of plum wine as the fireworks heralded in the New Year. Meanwhile, miles away in Piter, Christophe griped to Victor that once again his lips had not been put to good use, as Victor had pretended that their presence at his father's New Year's Eve ball was more mandatory than it actually was. The two friends having long decided that they weren't so desperate to turn to each other, Victor bestowed his first kiss of the year on Makkachin's nose, and Christophe kidnapped Yurio's Yule present, sparking the young lord's first screaming fit of the year.

_"HOW DARE YOU KISS POTYA BEFORE ME!"_

Victor then kept his word; the very night that Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo left the cottage, Victor came back, and unknowingly held Yuri's tears at bay. Yuri cried instead when he got into his bed, and realised how quiet the cottage had become.

Yuri never told his guardians about Victor, not even Phichit. It tore his stomach to shreds whenever he thought about doing so, but... he'd never told any of them about Victor five years ago, half convinced it must have been a dream, and half... half worried that if he did tell them, they'd prevent it from happening again. Yuri didn't know how it was that Victor had managed to find the frozen lake the first time, or the second, as he'd always been told it was impossible for the lake to be found. He didn't know that Phichit had unwittingly put a loophole into the spell that masked the lake, or that the Red Raven had helped Victor find the forest the second time. No one else had ever found the lake other than Victor... it was still safe, right? And...

... Yuri wanted Victor to himself. So he let his guardians go without a word about it, and tried to live with the guilt of keeping a secret from them.

For the first month, Victor visited the lake almost every single night. No matter the weather, or how long his day had been, he went to see Yuri. In the middle of winter, work had paused until better weather on their project for the renovation and expansion of many of the major roads in the territories, as had construction on the hospital, having found that the roof of the main building was in need of considerable repair, another thing waiting for the spring. But his father's meetings with his advisors continued on affairs of state and on their relations with Turicum (still frail at best after Christophe's disownment) and other clans, and the projects that Victor was heading with Christophe still had various wrinkles to take care of. It made for long days trying hard to concentrate, when all he wanted to do was daydream, or better yet just grab Makkachin and go.

Partly, the reason why Victor went so often was because he was worried that Yuri was lonely after the departure of his explorer guardians. But quickly, it was also because even then, he barely got to see Yuri still.

At first, Yuri was always on the ice, eagerly awaiting him, or as eagerly as his shyness would allow him to show. (Victor hadn't quite ever imagined that Yuri would be as shy as he was. It was so  _endearing_ though.) Then, as time passed... more often than not, Victor had to wait for Yuri to appear. Yuri always did, eventually, running to the lake with apologies, frown set deep into his brow from... he always looked so guilty.

"Long day at the shop?" Victor would offer with a smile.

Some times Yuri would nod and tell him about that one of the owner's clients had come in late with a query or a problem, and because Yuri needed to learn how to solve such problems he stayed even if it meant going home late. Some times Yuri would just nod... and those were the times when Victor suspected that Yuri was lying.

For the most part, he would have been right.

There _were_ long days at the bookshop; there were clients who came in at awkward hours with awkward issues. Mr Plisetski served as an accountant, business and investment advisor and much, much more. His sage advice was enormously valued; many traders required his good standing with the customs officials in Dazaifu, and the tax officials. It was joked that Kara was yakuza-free because of Mr Plisetski; his work was entirely legal, entirely above board, and thus any business that  _didn't_ open their books up to him in the town had something to hide. The book-keeper also knew every single loop-hole that made sure that those who needed the breaks got them; if a business made less revenue, Plisetski made sure their taxes were lowered immediately, subtracting for rebates as appropriate. For the officials in Dazaifu, it made their jobs easier because all of the paperwork was correctly filed, but it also meant that the ones who were corrupt there had to look for other opportunities to line their pockets elsewhere; Kara paid exactly the right amount of tax it actually owed, and not a single coin more or less.

He was a hero for Yuri, always had been, long before he even properly understood what Mr Plisetski did with all the figures he worked on as Yuri read everything in his shop. He was more than happy to stay and learn.

Except those times were not as frequent as Yuri let Victor believe. Most nights... most nights Yuri would leave the shop exactly when he was meant to, and he'd walk home through the bamboo forest, unwittingly followed by the Red Raven, and then he'd collapse into his warm bed... and struggle to get up again. And though it made him feel terribly ashamed, the thought that Victor was waiting for him didn't make it any easier to get up. If anything, it made it harder.

He just felt so lonely... after a wonderful Yuletide together with Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo, their departure was... the loss of their laughter, their chatter, their bickering and snores and sighs from the cottage was like a knife between Yuri's ribs into his lungs. The contrasting quiet was crippling. He could barely eat, slept badly.

_What if they don't come back...? The last thing I would have done was lied to them._

_... Oh god..._

"Yuri?"

Yuri slowly picked himself up, kneeling on the ice, feeling too heavy to stand. "I'm alright," he said quietly. He bunched his fists up his thighs, trying to swallow down his self-disappointment.

He had been late again, and all evening he hadn't managed to land a single jump properly, and his spins felt lacklustre. Over an hour ago Victor had stopped trying his own, as though aware that his own successful landings would make it sting all the more. His pity felt worse however.

Victor glided over, his face troubled. Yuri couldn't bear to look at him; even looking so worried, he was still so handsome it ached. Slowly, Victor knelt on the ice too, at the corner of Yuri's vision, several feet away. Distant.

"Yuri, I..." Victor's fists clenched up on his own thighs too. His hair hung in front of his eyes, concealing, shielding. Then, very quietly, "Do you want me to go?"

Something shattered in Yuri's chest. He almost heard it break, like glass. He lifted his head to stare at Victor, absolutely horrified. "Wh-What...?"

"You don't owe me anything. If you don't want me coming here, then I... I..." Victor couldn't say anything further, his jaw tight.

_... This is your fault. You did this, you made him feel like this, like he wasn't wanted. You don't deserve him, you don't deserve any-_

_SHUT UP!_ Yuri's eyes widened.  _Just shut up! Help me fix this!_

"Victor, I..."

_I've only just found him... I can't lose him..._

Forgetting his own shame, Yuri crawled hesitantly forward, reaching out to Victor. His hand froze before he actually touched his shoulder, and Yuri let it drop self-consciously, and blushed as he realised Victor was watching his movements with wide-eyes, confused. "Victor, I... I'm... I'm so  _sorry_..."

The tears poured down Yuri's face before he could stop them, and he shoved the palms of both his fists into his eyes to try to stem them. It was humiliating, so horrifically embarrassing. They barely knew each other, he shouldn't subject Victor to his misery -

"Yuri, don't cry!" Tentative fingertips found Yuri's shoulders, which made it feel so much worse.  _I made him feel like I didn't want him here, he shouldn't have to comfort me!_  "Yuri, I... shit, I never know what to do when people cry, I don't... _why_ are you crying?"

 _It's not fair, don't ask him to bear the weight on your shoulders -_ too late. It all vomited out of Yuri's mouth before he could stop himself. "I just... I... it's so stupid, I...  _I miss them so much_..."

"Your guardians?" Victor asked softly, somewhere behind Yuri's blinding hands. "That's... I can well imagine, Yuri, they're your family, you love them very much."

Hearing that, this most true of things, realising that he'd never even needed to say it so explicitly, that his guardians meant so much to Yuri, made all the rest spill out too.

"It... it's so l-lonely here without them..."

Victor's fingers smoothed to rub gently over his back.  _Oh god_... Yuri wanted... wanted _more_. "I know, Yuri... I know."

The rest was harder. But it was all coming out now. Yuri tried to stop it, terrified of the consequences, but his mouth wouldn't stop. "I don't... _I don't understand why you're here..._ "

Victor's hands flinched off of Yuri's back, and the loss of contact made him whimper, slapping a hand over his mouth to try to contain himself. The rest of his words were muffled behind his fingers, but on the silent ice, there was nothing else to distort them. "I don't understand... you come all this way from  _Piter_... just to... to skate with me... I... I don't understand why you... you said you were  _looking for me_... I don't...  _I don't understand why you go to all this trouble for... for me_..."

A moment passed, marked only by the hiccoughing sobs that Yuri couldn't silence in his chest.

Then Victor seized him.

A stunted cry burst out of Yuri's mouth, followed by an awkward croak as he realised Victor hadn't attacked him, or anything else like that. After a moment he realised that Victor had buried his head into Yuri's shoulder, his body just as tense as Yuri's, arms wrapped like a vice. Yuri's own arms stuck out at odd angles, unsure what to do.

It was just a hug.

"It takes less than an hour for Makkachin to fly here. Thirty minutes if the wind is in our favour. Makkachin's pretty quick in the air."

"Huh...?" Yuri tried to turn, to pull back so he could look at Victor, but Victor's hold was so rigid, so tight he could barely move his head at all.

"It's not trouble at all, coming here to see you. Even if it took all night to fly, I'd still -" Victor tensed, trying to retreat from dangerous territory. Then he changed his mind, and plunged in anyway.  _Yuri needs to hear this_. "I'd still come to see you."

In his arms, Yuri choked on a cry. "V-Victor..."

_Should I tell him that I think I flew over this forest over a hundred times trying to find my way back?_

Victor pulled back, keeping his hands on Yuri's shoulders, holding on. He smiled affectionately at the mess that was Yuri's face; shock mixed with a snivelling nose and red eyes. Even looking this terrible Victor couldn't take his eyes off him. He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and offered it to Yuri, who stared at it with the same bewilderment. Yuri then started to shake his head, rejecting Victor's offer but Victor pushed the fabric into Yuri's hand. "Come on, better you do it yourself than have me blow your nose for you."

Yuri flinched at the idea, and then a choked laugh burst out of him. Reluctantly he took the handkerchief, mopped up his tears, tried to catch the fresh ones before they made progress. Victor raised an eyebrow pointedly, and with great reluctance Yuri dabbed at his nose, then finally relented and blew his nose properly, grimacing at how disgusting he sounded. Yet that same noise made Victor smile so kindly.

"Bit better?" Victor asked after a moment. Yuri bit his lip; _a little, but..._ "Come on, let's sit on the bank." And he straightened up, and reached a hand down to Yuri. He kept his hand on Yuri's shoulder as they skated over to Makkachin at the edge, and Makkachin whimpered at Yuri's distress and immediately clambered into Yuri's lap, a tangle of furry limbs. Victor smiled. "He does that with me when I'm upset too. You should see what he's like when he's big."

Yuri managed a weak smile at the thought. He imagined being smothered with giant doggy affection. Then he saw the smile fade entirely off of Victor's face, despaired when Victor looked away to the ice. Where had he just gone...? Then Yuri flinched; why would Victor have been so upset that Makkachin felt such a need to comfort like this?

"The day we met..." Victor started, choosing his words carefully, his tone low and quiet. "The day we met I was running from... something. We were lost, Makkachin and I, when we found this place." Then he looked back at Yuri and... Yuri's eyes widened. Victor's smile was sad, but dazzling. "Then I saw you skating in the mist. You were amazing, Yuri. I... I can't begin to describe how much I needed to see something like that, something so wonderful." The sadness dwindled out of Victor's smile. "And then when I realised who you were in Piter, it was like a dream come true!"

The bottom fell out of Yuri's stomach. "P... P-Piter?"

Victor nodded shyly. "I... I saw your exhibition skate. The announcer said you were from Kara; it's... it's how I found this place in the end." He frowned as Yuri paled, and then smiled as best he could. "Why are you looking at me like that? You were... your skating, it was... it was  _so_ beautiful. No one could take their eyes off you. I'm sure that from now onwards people will describe that exhibition as 'the one with the Katsukan boy'."

Yuri wanted to shrivel up and die, to just be swallowed up by the earth. Instead - and this made things feel even worse, which he hadn't thought possible - he squeaked. The second the stupid noise was out of his throat he clasped his hands over his mouth, as though that could take it back, and blushed so deeply it was almost possible to see steam rising out of his head and his hair frizzing as a result.

Victor burst out laughing, then tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, reaching out to Yuri with the other placatingly as Yuri shrank away from him with irritation. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I - oh my god, that was so -!"  _Don't say it. Don't be cruel, even though it's true. Don't tell him how adorable that was, he's uncomfortable enough as it is!_

Yuri glared across at him warily, and Victor remembered sheepishly that he was meant to be comforting the younger man. So he smiled sincerely, and offered something that he hoped Yuri would find undeniably true. "I'm really glad you skated at the exhibition in Piter. I would never have found you otherwise... so I'm really,  _really_ glad."

The glare slowly dissolved on Yuri's face into awe. "Oh..." And then he blushed, and said nothing more. At least he didn't contradict Victor at all.

So he told himself something else that was true. "When I saw you skate the first time, it... it really inspired me, Yuri." The younger man frowned again, having not expected that at all, and he looked up to stare at Victor, who turned away a little, suddenly nervous. "A couple of years after it was my father's tenth wedding anniversary. To celebrate I... I choreographed something for him and his wife." Then he turned to Yuri with a nervous smile. "Will you watch?"

Yuri's eyes widened to saucers. Then, realising he owed an answer of some kind, nodded slowly. Victor's smile grew with Yuri's acceptance, and he shuffled back on to the ice. "It only seems fair. I've seen you skate pieces, so... you should get to see me skate too."

And so, Yuri watched, and heard every note and every lyric of  _Stammi Vicino_ in Victor's skating.

He was never late again.

* * *

XXII

* * *

"I'm not going to make you late, am I...?"

"Huh...?" Yuri knelt down at Victor's side incredulously. "Make me...? Victor, it's fine." He rubbed Victor's back after a moment's hesitation, and then stood again. "Come on, let's get some food, you'll feel better for it."

Victor nodded, took another deep breath and slowly straightened up, breathed deeply again. "I don't... I don't get it, I've been to the forest so many times before, why...?"

 _Why did it just make me feel so sick when I stepped further away from the ice-lake?_ Victor meant. Yuri frowned; he didn't know. But... it angered him.

Nearly three months had passed. In that time, Victor had slowly pulled back how many times he came to visit Yuri, though it was still usually every other evening if he could; not a single week had gone by when he didn't visit at least twice. Winter had flown by as a result, the long nights slowly but surely shortening as Spring began to creep in, flowers poking out of snow too stubborn to melt yet. But this was the first time that Victor had strayed from the banks of the ice-lake, accepting Yuri's shy invitation to his home. It had taken a couple of weeks to summon the courage to invite Victor, but... it was only practical, Yuri had reasoned to himself with a blush.

The alternative was for Victor to change into the yukata that Yuri had brought for him at the lake, and that was not appropriate.

Victor had accepted without a single second of hesitation.  _Of course_ he wanted to see where Yuri lived.

Maybe it was the sense of deja vu, the feeling that he was missing something, but soon after they arrived in Yuri's cottage, Victor had developed a headache. He had shrugged it off, not said anything, and happily changed in the privacy of Yuri's bedroom into the white under-layer and then a plain, deep navy yukata, calling for Yuri to help him get the obi tied correctly around his waist. Watching Yuri blush so sweetly had made it easy to ignore the headache, and seeing Yuri later emerge in his own black yukata had made him quite forget that he wasn't feeling so well.

Until they started walking down the path towards town.

"Yuri... I think... I think I'm going to be sick..."

Then, Yuri remembered the influence of the bamboo, had cursed loudly in Katsukan, and immediately grabbed Victor's hand and tugged him along the path, trying to get him out of the reach of the bamboo. The second that he touched Victor's skin, the pressure on Victor's head vanished, but it was only when they emerged from the trees on the outskirts of Kara that Victor was able to hear properly what Yuri was saying to him. "Victor, I'm so, so,  _so_ sorry, I... I forgot, I was supposed to vouch for you to the bamboo so it wouldn't... I thought...  _kuso_...  _I'm so sorry!_ "

Victor had waved his apologies off, not at all grasping how it could be Yuri's fault, or indeed what he really meant by the bamboo. "It's okay... I... I feel a bit better... just... give me a minute..."

And then he puked into the bushes.

Yuri's fists clenched, and he turned back to the bamboo to let Victor have a moment of privacy.  _Please, let Victor pass through the forest unharmed. He's... he's my friend. He's with_ me _._ A gush of wind came through the trees, whispering back wordlessly assent. Yuri tried not to think too hard, tried not to be angry with the bamboo for making his friend sick. This was why Yuuko and Takeshi never came to visit him; the bamboo had its ways of repelling people.

_Please... keep Victor safe like you keep me safe._

Relinquished from the hold of the bamboo, Victor slowly felt the tightness in his stomach and the pressure in his skull release, and breathed a deep sigh of relief, the cool spring air tasting delicious in his lungs. Yuri continued to frown at his face, eyeing the sweat at Victor's brow, his increased pallor, the way his hand trembled on his arm. Victor couldn't help but want to smile at Yuri's unhidden concern. Then, as they neared the edge of the festival grounds, marked by a long avenue of food stalls, Yuri sniffed the air, looked forward and his eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait... wait here a moment..." And he let go of Victor and darted forward to one of the nearest stalls.

Victor's eyes immediately dipped to watch Yuri's retreating figure. Even in the yukata the black suited him so well, and the hem showed off his ankles, the arches of his delicate feet. He watched Yuri speak to the stall operator, an elderly lady with a plump figure and a face so wrinkled from smiles Victor could only surmise that she must have always been happy in her life. He could just pluck out Yuri's voice from the growing crowd around them, marvelled at the Katsukan dialect he spoke with, managed to translate some of it from his classes in the language... something about tea... Yuri's worried face transformed in an instant with a grateful smile as the old lady set to making something, and then he came back, his hands cupped around -

"Here, drink this."

The smell of citrus, mint and ginger was unmistakable, plus... something else... something floral perhaps. Victor took a sip, and the effect was so instantaneous it was startling; it was like it was cleansing out his veins.

It also had an absolutely awful after-taste, and Victor nearly choked as his tongue felt like it was twisting from the back in reaction. "What the -!"

Yuri gave an apologetic chuckle. "It's a local recipe, for those who stray into the forest by accident. They... umm... they make a dried tea out of fallen bamboo leaves, and then mix it with yuzu, mint and ginger to hide the flavour of the tea... it's a bit... umm..."

Victor looked down at his tiny tea cup, grateful that in the Katsuki lands they preferred such small servings instead of the delicate china tea-cups in Piter. Even so... he pulled a face before he downed the rest, swallowing as quickly as he could to try and avoid the - no, there it was again, no escaping that horrible taste. Victor coughed again, banging a fist into his own chest to help. "Ugh... do you have to drink that too?!"

Yuri pulled a guilty face. "Umm... no... I have an immunity, I guess. My guardians always made me eat bamboo shoots with dinner. They tasted a lot better!"

Victor was tempted to glare at him, envious. Instead he peered at the empty cup in his hand that he was eager to get rid of. "Umm... what should I do with...?"

"Oh! Here, let me..." Yuri took it from him and returned it to the stall, thanking the lady profusely with a low bow. Then Yuri waved back to Victor, gesturing for him to follow, and the two allowed themselves to be swept up in the Kara Sakura Festival.

For a couple of hours, as the moon began to make progress into the sky, Yuri explained to Victor  _everything_. What those sticks were on the grill. What the prize was if his dart hit the bullseye. The story being told by the hand puppets for the circle of children all excitedly screaming along to the antics of the hero and villain. What that person was eating and where they might find the stall cooking it. Why he insisted that he pay for everything Victor ate and did, even though he wasn't eating himself. "You're my guest!"

Yuri didn't tell Victor any details of the performances that would be shown later before the fireworks - "it's a surprise!". But he did explain what that instruments being carried by late musicians were - "that's a koto, you play it on the ground like this" - and that Yuri's former teacher and dance instructor was organising the performances and -

"I need to go and get ready," Yuri admitted shyly. He peered at Victor through his glasses guiltily. "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

Victor smiled as reassuringly as possible back. "Of course! I'll go and find a good seat to watch."

Yuri blushed brightly in anticipation. "R-Right... ano, did you want to get any more food or drink?"

Victor laughed gamely. "Yuri, I think you've spoilt me enough, I couldn't possibly eat more!"

"But you said you wanted to try the mochi as well -"

Victor shrugged contentedly. "Then we'll get some after, to eat during the fireworks!"

Yuri blinked, unconvinced, but bended. "Alright." He was struggling not to feel ecstatic at Victor's use of 'we'. He liked it more than he was willing to admit, when Victor used 'we' to refer to the two of them. "Sounds like a plan."

Victor smiled. Then he reached out, put a hand on Yuri's bicep. "You're going to be wonderful, Yuri. Please, don't be nervous; it sounds like you've been looking forward to this." Victor let go of Yuri's arm, but smiled all the brighter to compensate. "I'm so honoured that you invited me here; I'm so excited to see it!"

Yuri couldn't help but smile back at Victor's heart-shaped grin. "I... I'm glad you came. Really... I really am glad you're here." The two just smiled at each other, then looked away shyly, trying not to chuckle at themselves. Then Yuri offered a small wave. "I'm going to go, then. See you after. Just stay in your seat after and I'll find you."

And then Victor let him disappear. He sighed at the sudden feeling of loneliness - he knew absolutely no one at the festival, and had left Makkachin in the warm kitchen of Yuri's cottage - and then turned and tried to find the right current into the tide of the crowd.

Yuri had explained that in Kara, much like in many small towns across the Katsuki clan-lands, this festival never had a fixed date, but rather waited until the principal sakura tree in the town - planted in the square outside of the town hall, just off the main road - began to bloom. The day that the first flowers started to appear the organisers would meet and agree a date very swiftly, and then there would be a madness whilst all the businesses in the town contributed their fair share of assistance before the flowers bloomed in earnest. Mr Plisetski, for instance, was the one hidden behind the puppets putting on the funny voices that made the children laugh so much. The old lady who served the special tea for Victor had long ago handed over the reins to her tea and medicinal herb shop to her son to run, and this was her way of freeing him so he could enjoy the festival with his wife and young children. Nishigori was the one turning the sticks on the grill, his father having prepared the meat and vegetables from their farm.

And Yuri was helping Okukawa-sensei, as he did every year.

But the festival of the sakura blossoms, unlike other festivals held through the year, was not on behalf of any one God of the Higher Plain, but rather for all of them, as all the Gods enjoyed the sakura season. It was to give thanks for the gods' assistance in persevering through the winter, no matter how mild the winter might be compared to the winters of Piter. It was also to ask for their support for the year to come as the days lengthened and the sun grew in strength to... grow and tend crops. Keep livestock healthy. Keep business booming. Keep children and loved ones healthy. But originally... it was to give thanks for the beauty in the world, signified by the delicate flowers that refused to be ugly. Beauty meant so many different things, Yuri had explained with pink cheeks, but a life without beauty in it is to be pitied, indeed was a divine punishment from the gods. Thus people were to give thanks for beauties big and small; their loved ones, predominantly, but also in the simple things, things perhaps that existed only for a blink of an eye, the exact precise moment of alignment of elements to create a tableau...

Like the glimmer of Yuri's eyes above the roses in his cheeks, separated by the frames of his glasses, the lenses creating mirrors of the colours.

Like the exact moment before Victor closed his eyes into his heart-shaped smiles, when his eyes seemed to get impossibly bluer and bigger before he was all giddy excitement.

To give thanks, there was a table being organised by the school who, for five yen, would give each donator a small square piece of origami paper to write a prayer on, and the papers would be folded by the children into paper blossoms to adorn the principal sakura tree in the square when the flowers littered the ground instead. Yuri had told Victor about long days as a child at school after the festival folding the prayers into blossoms, trying not to be nosy about people's wishes.

Victor handed over the small coin, wary of the time, and wrote his wish in the common script upon soft pink paper, and then dashed back to find a good spot to sit. Straw mats had been put out in front of a temporary stage in a field at the edge of the town, to protect the grass beneath that would be the cowes' breakfast in the morning, and would protect Victor's yukata from the mud.

It had been a gift, the yukata. Yuri refused to let Victor pay for it, simply wouldn't give Victor any clue how much it had cost. But Victor wasn't a fool; it was silk, soft and soothing on Victor's skin. How much had he paid for this, to be worn only that day for the festival, or maybe many festivals...? Victor had every intention of cherishing it.

Alone, Victor found himself unexpectedly smiling. He had a feeling he would never forget this day, no matter what happened. He would remember forever Yuri's shy hands as he helped Victor with his obi when he helped him change at the cottage, the way Makkachin had yowled like a spoilt child when he said for the dog to stay, and how gentle Yuri had been all evening, wary of the sickness brought on by the enchanted forest. He would remember all the food, the way Yuri had insisted on paying for everything - "put that coin purse away!" - and...

He would never forget _this_.

A woman came out on to the stage in a white kimono and pink hakama belted high over her trim waist. Her face and neck were painted white, blush red at her lips and black on her eyebrows. She smiled appreciatively - the stretch of the red on her lips the only indication - as most of the gathered audience on the straw mats shushed and quieted. She then glared pointedly at those who didn't get the hint, making them sweat guiltily. Then, satisfied that she had everyone's attention, she bowed, and introduced herself as Okukawa Minako, and respectfully requested of the audience to watch this performance, and lend their support to the Kara School's dance class and key volunteers from Kara's community. Victor smiled again at that last, knowing exactly who she was referring to.

The lanterns across the audience were swiftly blown out, plunging the crowd into shadow, the stars of the night sky twinkling brightly in the sudden contrast. Then, a small ensemble - a flute, koto, and drums - began to play a teasing beckon, lights were lit across the stage, illuminating heaps - bodies? - covered in white sheets lying on the stage floor, and then a cluster of tiny white-painted faces peeked out from backstage and blinked shyly at the audience.

Victor cooed instantly, along with many of the crowd. How cute!

A dozen or so children - a mix of girls and boys - gathered timidly at the side of the stage, in a selection of pink and white yukatas; the sakura flowers come to life to dance. The children all looked to each other, then on cue from the sudden beat of a drum, one of them suddenly jumped out from the group, a little closer to the centre of the stage, twirled prettily and then posed to the audience, proud of having stepped forward.

His move was met with awkward silence, as though he had just committed a terrible faux par. A few audience members tittered with kind amusement, and the boy gave a shy laugh and then jumped back in alarm as the music played again and one of the figures lying under the sheets chose that moment to suddenly awake, stretching out in an exaggerated yawn, pushing up off the floor in elegant manoeuvres. It was Minako-sensei, and Victor awed at her poise, understanding perfectly why Yuri spoke so highly of her.

The music paused for Minako-sensei to wave the rest of the children over, and they lined up like little ducks following their mother across the stage. Every now and then they'd suddenly stop at one of the other figures still lying on the floor, and Minako-sensei would clear her throat with theatrical loudness, causing the figure to stir - to  _blossom_ \- until all but one was still on the floor.

This one Minako-sensei cleared her throat twice, then, scowling, gave a fake kick to the sheet, which yelped. Victor beamed and laughed as Yuri emerged, faking sleepy-headedness, and then turned to face the audience and -

Victor's laugh died in his throat.

Black hair slicked back. His face was white as well, sakura pink marking his lips and shadowing his eyes, thick, elegant, black lines over his brows. A matching white kimono and pink hakama set just like his teacher. His natural skin tone peeked out in streaks around his neck, and he had pink and white lines over his hands and wrists, disappearing into the flowing sleeves of the kimono. So beautiful...

Then Minako-sensei tapped her foot impatiently, a thumping echo on the wooden stage, and he mirrored her ascend with graceful precision, throwing in a pointed stumble, to make his fellow dancers sigh theatrically. The audience laughed politely; Victor smiled affectionately, and tried not to have a heart attack.

In a flurry of movement, all the dancers, adult and young, took their positions upon the stage, as one fluttered fans out from their sleeves, and Minako-sensei and Yuri led the children into a synchronised dance, the movements uncomplicated but delicate - a routine, simple enough to be repeated in a line - and the audience clapped along as the sakura-dancers celebrated the arrival of spring on the stage. In the audience, Victor clapped too, his heart-shaped smile stretching his cheeks; he never took his eyes off Yuri, marvelling at how, even though the dance was repetitive, and the children clearly competing amongst each other for their instructors' favour, every time he did the routine it was fresh, perfectly timed and  _new_. Yuri fluttered the fan and twisted and threw it and spun and twirled... and Yuri smiled every second of it.

By the time the ensemble finished playing and the dancers finished their final repetition, the children all posing their best, Minako-sensei, Yuri and the other adults on the stage directed the audience to clap and cheer for the children, an announcer informing the audience it was the beginners class first performance. The children all jumped off the stage in their make-up and yukatas and ran through the audience to gush to their families, and Victor watched as Yuri disappeared from the stage, wondering if he'd seen him in the audience.

If the young children represented the celebration of the arrival of spring, the next performance, with a handful of teenagers in the same make-up and similar kimono-and-hakama combination, signified the trials the sakura faced. Between the beat of the drums and dancers in grey surrounding and harassing white-and-pink, an unexpected snow-storm gathered to freeze the blossoms, until a yellow yukata strode imperially on to the stage to bring the sun. Rain tried to drown the blossoms, spinning them wildly across the stage, but they persisted. Until, finally...

The stage cleared, and Yuri returned alone.

A solo glockenspiel twinkled like a pixie song, and with nothing more than a flick of his limbs Yuri cast his petals into the wind. Using nothing more than the flare of the kimono's sleeves and the wide hakama, his fans from the first performance gone, Yuri flew and hesitated with wondrous innocence. The skin at his wrists winked, and his hair fell out of the smoothness to frame his white face, Yuri's movements began excitedly - like the last blossom to emerge tumbling upon the gusts - before eventually falling into mournful glides to the swan song as the blossom slowly fell from the tree branches to the ground. When Yuri was flat upon the stage, he hadn't fallen, had only folded down to softly land, waiting to lose colour and return to be one with the earth.

Victor blinked back unexpected tears...  _sublime_.

His legs itched to run, but then the children from the beginning all ran onto the stage to help the fallen sakura blossom to his feet, and he and Minako-sensei led them into another routine to close out the performance with something less bittersweet; a reminder that the blossoms would return, and that they gave way to the summer and harvest. Tired from earlier and eager to be released to the festival, the children were mostly lazy with their movements, but full of smiles and laughs as they got things wrong, Yuri giggling with them as he helped the stragglers catch back up with the cues.

When finally they all took their bows as the drums beat out the climax, Victor clapped and cheered with the crowd, and then, the moment the performers started to move to leave the stage, he was up on his feet. Yuri had told him he'd come find him; Victor plain forgot, impatient.

Yuri came off the stage feeling like he was stepping back down to reality. For days he had been so nervous about this performance, even though the pressure wasn't very great - Minako-sensei was just grateful that he was still helping her even though he had left the school a long time ago now - except... had Victor been watching...? What had he thought? The dance had gone so well... hadn't it?

As always, he'd been swept up into helping the children with their dancing - many of them had been nervous too, dancing before the town for the first time - and then during his solo... he'd just forgotten himself. Whilst the music chimed, he had been immersed in the beautiful end of the last blossoms, the final fanfare of such a pretty thing's existence. The Yuri who thought he was too plain to be a pretty thing himself could disappear until the dance. It was... liberating.

Now that it was over... he could feel the sweat covering him from his exertion. He grimaced backstage as he wiped off the white make-up from his face, neck, hands and arms with a wet rag, his face already red from the dancing underneath and leaving his cheeks feeling overly scrubbed. Flicks of his hair were sticking out of the smoothness, and refused to co-operate as he tried to comb them back down with his fingers, deciding eventually on just giving up entirely on and dunking his head in a bucket of water to get rid of the oil.

With his glasses back on, his reflection no longer hazy and looking more familiar in his black yukata, Yuri finally came out from backstage, wondering where he could find -

"YURI!"

Victor crashed immediately into his side, seemingly flying out of nowhere, and seizing him into his arms. " _Yuri!_ That was amazing! You were so good!" Victor shook him like a rag doll in his enthusiasm, and then -

Yuri shivered as Victor nuzzled into his cheek affectionately. _Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch..._  "I'm so looking forward to watching you dance again like that! Thank you for asking me here!"

Yuri came back to himself, and chuckled shyly in Victor's embrace. "Ano... Victor..."  _Everyone_ was staring. Victor's eyes widened as he realised what he was doing and let go, stepping away quickly, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin. It left Yuri feeling... bereft. It had felt nice, being hugged, even like that. He... he was so touched that Victor was so happy.

Yuri reached out tentatively and took Victor's hand in his, just held his fingers to stop Victor distancing himself. "I... I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm glad you came too." Victor absolutely beamed, making Yuri smile automatically in return; he loved making Victor smile like this. "Ano... the fireworks will be in an hour, they're going to be putting on a play until then, but... umm... would you like to go round the stalls again? I'm really hungry."

Victor's fingers tightened round his, and he nodded excitedly. "Perfect! But this time -" And he raised a finger with his other hand to point sternly at Yuri's face. "- This time; my treat!"

Yuri blinked at him for a moment, and then laughed his consent. Victor grinned, and then pulled Yuri away into the crowd by his hand, wiping Yuri's smile off his face instantly.

 _What will people think of us?_ Yuri couldn't help but worry... but then Victor turned back to him, with that heart-shaped smile... and Yuri clean forgot to worry at all, and gripped Victor's hand just as tightly, trying to keep up.

When the fireworks began, they were both eating tonkatsu, standing at the stalls bench to eat, and Victor was in the middle of describing how good a family friend's recipe for katsudon was, and how much he looked forward to her making it for him when he visited her family in Hasetsu. The fireworks proved to be an opportune interruption; how could he explain to Yuri that katsudon reminded him of visiting the Katsuki family after his mother left, and Lady Hiroko dotting on him as though he were her favourite nephew, or even her own son...?

They paused eating to watch the sky ignite, the stars balking against such colourful competition for the night sky. The citizens of Kara grew quiet other than for oohs and aahs and cheers and the exploding gold-dust over their heads. For a moment, Yuri wondered if Victor was enjoying the fireworks as much as he was, but when he turned to his friend he was hypnotised; Victor's entranced face was lit by the bursts of green and red and white.

Yuri had long lost track of the number of times he'd looked at Victor and thought of nothing more than of how beautiful he was. It was terrifying and... affirming. This extremely eligible bachelor, a son of the Nikiforov family, could have been spending the evening absolutely anywhere, with anyone, with the Feltsman clan members even... and yet there he was, letting his fried pork grow cold, at Yuri's side. And when Victor caught him staring and smiled, Victor... Victor always smiled at Yuri like he was beautiful too. The feeling that inspired in Yuri was more filling than anything that the stalls had to offer, even the tonkatsu, even his Aunt Hirokei's katsudon recipe.

Victor lifted his arm and laid it over Yuri's shoulder, hand in an elegant limp forward - a gesture of their friendship, Yuri had to remind himself - and Victor leant forward a little to whisper in between the explosions. "Yuri?"

Yuri smiled nervously. "Hmm?"

"Let's do this next year too."

Yuri looked back up at the fireworks, unseeing. Victor's arm felt heavy on his shoulder, and...  _right_. He would miss its weight when he eventually retracted it. But for now, Yuri thought...

"Yes. Let's."

* * *

...

* * *

A few days later, when the festival was all cleared away and business was back to normal, the school children began folding the origami sakura for the tree in the square, ready for when the branches were bare, and two slips of paper read the same prayer. When they were finished, as chance would have it, they sat side-by-side upon the branch, to weather all together. The folds would never be seen to reveal what they asked for, and meanwhile two young men continued to do all they could to make this prayer come true themselves.

In another time, in another place, this prayer was asked as well... and answered.

Had things been different, if a sorceress had not intervened for want of the same... this prayer was still asked. And answered.

In this life...

神様お願い  
私は彼と一緒に滞在しましょう

Боже, пожалуйста  
Позвольте мне остаться с ним

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Life Update: the job I was hoping to get in Japan... well, I got to the last stage, but... :-( bit gutted.
> 
> Over the next few weeks I'll be busy again - I'm moving into my grandmother's, to be somewhere... somewhere good, I guess. I'm actually really looking forward to it; she and I get on well, and she lives in a wonderfully beautiful place, which I'm hoping with inspire me in several different ways. It's somewhere to recuperate as well... the honest fact is that I've not really been happy living in Exeter for the last two years, and being unhappy is not the best place to start when one wants to uproot. The next chapter of my life should be because I knew it would make me happier... not less unhappy.
> 
> In the meantime, I'm setting myself a longer deadline for the next chapter: probably the first or second Wednesday of October, hopefully the first. The next chapter hasn't been started yet, and whilst I know what happens in chapters to come, the next one... is proving to be elusive. That's not helpful.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think, I'm sorry it took so long to respond to the comments from the last chapter, but I do try to answer and expand on things as best as I can (without giving away spoilers!). The last batch gave me a lot to think about, in fact, so I genuinely do appreciate it when you give me food for thought :-)
> 
> In the meantime, hope everyone in the Northern hemisphere is enjoying the slow transition into Autumn, and those in the South into Spring! x


	13. XXIII-XXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARGH! I completely forgot to add a link for the last chapter! For those following this in real time, this was the music I had in mind for Yuri's solo dance...
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avoB8Lujs9k&frags=pl%2Cwn
> 
> The actual context of Toryanse doesn't really apply in this case, but when I found this it was too hauntingly beautiful to ignore, and it's what I listened to on repeat to write the scene, so... there you go, I guess! Otherwise I suppose the other dances are loosely inspired by the dance sequence at the end of Zatoichi (2003)!

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XXIII

* * *

"Phichit?"

It was always a bit strange, using the crystal ball that his guardians had gifted him for Yule. With Spring moving towards the Summer rains, Yuri ought to have gotten used to it... but it was still odd.

It made a really weird noise every time Yuri used it before it connected with his guardians; a bizarre, repetitive tune from an instrument that Yuri didn't recognise. It was a bit disconcerting, particularly when they didn't respond, and there seemed to be no end to the lonely sound.

They couldn't always answer. The last time he had managed to speak to Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo, the crystal ball kept losing odd sounds, making their voices disjointed.  _"Sorry, the signal's so bad here,"_ Phichit had explained.  _"Let's pick a regular time to try and talk, we'll do our best to be available. Although... time runs differently down here, so we'll need to figure out the difference..."_

At least 'messages' had been received, though some took longer to get through as well. Then again... Yuri never had much to say.

He worried. Worried that there was more to their voyage than they had told him, worried that there was a reason why they weren't answering his calls through the crystal ball. But also... he worried that when they did speak, his guardians saw right through him, saw that he was holding something back from them. Something important: he still hadn't told them about Victor.

_Victor..._

With the Spring warmth, Victor hadn't been visiting as much as he had in that first month; responsibilities kept him in Piter. He never liked a week to go by without coming to see Yuri twice a week though, and on the rare occasion that he couldn't even make that, on the Day of Rest - Nichiyōbi - when no business ran and people were meant to do as little as possible, Victor would try to spend the  _whole_ day with Yuri. It was the strangest morning, the first time Victor did that, without any warning, not long after the Sakura Festival. Yuri had struggled to sleep, feeling lonely having not seen Victor for nearly a week. He'd given up on sleep after waking too early, dragged himself out of bed and made tea. A storm was coming in; Victor wouldn't chance flying in it. Yuri had nearly started crying into his cup, feeling sorry for himself, when -

_Knock knock._

For a moment, Yuri genuinely had no idea what that sound was. Why would he? He had never heard it in his entire life. People simply didn't knock at the door, not even his relatives, who were always picked up from the edge of the bamboo forest. Then, when his mind added it all up - there was only one other person he had ever brought to the cottage - Yuri sprinted to the door and wrenched it open. And there Victor stood, with Makkachin at his feet, smiling apologetically.

_"I'm so sorry! I knew you wouldn't know I was coming, and we've never said that I was allowed to come here, and - oh!"_

Yuri had flung his arms round Victor before he could think to stop himself.  _"You're here!"_

After a shocked moment, Victor hugged Yuri back just as tightly.  _"Of course... I haven't seen you all week. I missed you."_

At their side, Makkachin woofed happily and stood up to lean against their legs, his tail wagging and head seeking out their hands for strokes to his ears.

That had been a nice day. Yuri had blushed terribly when he realised what he'd done, leapt out of Victor's arms with his cheeks on fire and tried to cover it by inviting Victor in, apologising for his bad manners in a breathless gabble. He had poured tea for Victor too, had gone through the cupboards for a decent bowl for water for Makkachin, and the two sat at the same kitchen table that Yuri had once been too small to reach. Only a few minutes after Victor arrived it started to rain, heavily too, and the two had stared forlornly out of the window.  _"No skating today then..."_ Victor had said with a pout. Then he looked at Yuri and smiled, revealing that actually he didn't really mind what they did.

Yuri hadn't minded either. _Didn't_ mind. As long as his friend was there...

... Friend...

Yuri's gut churned. One didn't think of 'friends' like... like how he thought of Victor some times...

As if realising that Yuri wasn't in the best mindset, the crystal ball stopped chiming, and instead started voicing Phichit's set response:  _"Hello! This is Phichit! I'm sorry I can't come to the ball right now, so just leave a message after the 'beep'! BEEP!"_

The crystal ball then gave its own little chirrup, and waited. As always, Yuri stared at it in alarm, and then started. "Oh! Ano... ē to..." He never knew how to start these messages. "H-Hello, Phichit, Guang Hong, Leo! I hope you're all well! I... I guess you must be... umm... out of range again. If... if you want to try again tomorrow, that's okay! You all can reach me whenever you like!"

Yuri paused, wondering if they would even be able to. The last time he has seen his guardians' faces, they had all looked a little worse for wear, as though the journey into The Pit - they had never described it, but Yuri imagined it to be a literal pit, which then explained all the dirt on their faces once - was more perilous that they had let on before they left. Recently they had missed the last two regular times they said they would try to be available... Yuri hoped so much that they were safe and well. But in the meantime... what had they missed?

_I wish you had seen Victor's face when I landed the quadruple flip jump he's been trying to teach me for the first time. And the face he made when I flubbed it when I tried it again a minute later._

Yuri couldn't tell them that. "I can't remember what I said in my last message. You know this place, not much changes! I guess... did I tell you that Plisetski-san took me to Dazaifu last week, to meet with the tax officials there? He's been teaching me so much, I'm so grateful."

_My beloved guardians... there's something I've been meaning to tell you. I'm so sorry that I haven't before; I'd hoped you'd return sooner so I could tell you in person, but I should have told you all before you left._

_I met someone._

"I'm working really hard to learn everything, he... well, Plisetski-san isn't... he isn't young anymore, and I think... I think he wants to retire someday soon, or at least scale down how much work he has to do. I wonder what he'll do with the bookshop, when he does retire..."

 _His name is Victor, and... he's the most wonderful person I've ever met. I can't stop thinking about him, even when he's_ _right next to me. Sometimes I'm so distracted -_  by him, from him! _- it makes him laugh. His laugh is like music, so I never mind. It makes me feel so proud, whenever I make him laugh._

"What else...? I saw Yuuko and Takeshi's girls the other day. They've gotten so big! They were with their grandfather, Yuuko's father, they came into the shop for his accounts. Even though they're so young they've already learnt how to really wind him up, he was so red in the face!"

 _It... it terrifies me some times, how much I think of Victor._ How _I think of Victor... I've never thought about anyone like this, I... I don't understand it... please, help me understand..._

"I got a letter from Cousin Mariko yesterday. She sends her love to you, hopes that you're well. She's going to visit on my next day off; Aunt Hirokei wants her to bring satonishiki cherries, the first crop of the season from Hasetsu; I can't wait to try them!"

_Sometimes when I look at Victor I... I think of Yuuko and Takeshi, from before they were married when we all were younger, when I caught them kissing once... I... want... I want..._

"Umm... Minako-sensei has asked me to solo again in the Summer festival, when the rains are over... if you can come, I'd... I'd love it if you could. But I know that what you're doing is important, and that it might be hard to return, so... don't worry if you can't. It's a little while off anyway; plenty of time to figure it all out."

_I... I want Victor to kiss me like Yuuko and Takeshi kissed... I imagine it, some times... it's driving me insane, wishing that he would..._

"Anyway, I'll let you get on. I'm sorry to miss you all. I hope we get to see each other soon."

 _I never thought I would feel this way about anyone, let alone... let alone another man. But I can't help it... he's so beautiful I can't_ not _think of him..._

_I'm so scared that one day he'll stop coming here. I'm not sure I could bear feeling like this, and missing him too. I can't imagine not feeling like this anymore, or feeling like this for someone else. I... I don't even want to._

_I don't know what to do._

"Stay safe and well, look after each other. I love you all."

With nothing more to say, that he could or couldn't, Yuri put the crystal ball down, watching the faint glow in the centre slowly fade, a sign that his message had passed through. His guardians would receive it when they could.

Yuri sighed to himself. Victor hadn't come that day. He had gone skating anyway for a little while, to ease out the aches of bending over the account tomes at the shop and relax with the cool ice beneath his feet and the warmth in his limbs as he stretched them out and moved, but Victor hadn't come. He hadn't really been expecting him to, but... he'd hoped he would. He'd come the day before... and Yuri felt like he was having to withdraw from the memory of Victor's smiles. He chastised himself, for hoping and for missing Victor as much as he did when it had only been a day, but... whenever Victor did come it was the highlight of his day, the highlight of his week, his month, his year...

His life...

Yuri sighed again at such a foolish thought, and stood up from the kitchen table and put the crystal ball back in its holder on the mantelpiece over the fire in the main room, and then headed upstairs for bed. Tomorrow was a new day, and the weekend was almost here. One of the benefits of working for Plisetski-san: he refused to open not just on Nichiyōbi but the day before too, on Doyōbi, except for special appointments, and no one had booked anything... yet. The bookshop owner had started involving Yuri in those meetings too, which was a great honour... but it did mean Yuri had to give up one of his days off. Not the whole day, but... still. He didn't envy the other businesses who didn't have such a luxury.

Yuri got ready for bed, brushing his teeth with the paste Phichit insisted he use and spent a fortune on from Grandma Gennai, the same lady who he'd bought tea from at the Sakura Festival for Victor ( _"your teeth need cleaning just like the rest of your body!"_ his guardians all used to tell him. When he was younger, Yuri used to hate the taste. Now that he was grown up, he could better appreciate the mixture of ginseng and mint that Gennai-san used). He changed into his sleeping yukata, pulled out his futon and arranged the bedding, and blew out the candle on the small table at his side. He tucked himself in, closed his eyes -

_Victor. On the ice, stretching his long leg up high in a spin, his body all angles and striking lines, blue eyes catching Yuri and holding on tight..._

Yuri screwed his eyes up, turning his head to bury his face into his pillow guiltily. He shouldn't... he shouldn't...

_The solidity of his chest against Yuri's body every time Victor hugged him, and the one time Yuri had gone to hug him. The scent of the sencha on Victor's breath when the two leant towards each other to talk over the table animatedly. Victor's smile... oh God, Victor's smile..._

Yuri's hand dug inside the folds of his yukata, and he whimpered with shamed want. He shouldn't be doing this...

... But he would run mad if he didn't.

* * *

XXIV

* * *

"Chris?"

He opened one eye and peered at Victor. "Hmm?"

Victor felt a little bad; the two had been working hard all morning catching up on all the correspondence with the contractors for the hospital. The repairs were well and truly underway and due to be completed soon, so it wouldn't be too long until they could move on to the next stage of the renovations. Couriers had been in and out of the office they had set up inside one of the un-finished wings, off with letters of instruction and payment to various suppliers for the materials they would need, the architect and builders commissioned, and the general who was still in a huff over losing the building that he had been treating as his own personal palace for over twenty years during Lord Yakov's peaceful rein. The two young lords had finally decided on a break - it was nearly three pm - and had eaten their sandwiches almost with their eyes closed to rest them from reading and writing all the long morning.

Victor remembered the long winter months where they had so little to do, and not for the first time wished they had been able to do more of this back then, to spread out the workload more evenly. But many of these businesses closed down during the extreme cold, so it couldn't be helped; now that it was late summer, they had been and were still exceptionally busy. But he was glad that he had Christophe with him on this project, grateful that his father had made the pair of them responsible for it. They both made each other work harder, made sure they never lost sight of their goals, made sure they did not get lazy and take breaks they didn't deserve. The late lunch however was pushing things; they had arrived at the hospital at the same time as the builders, at dawn, and had been so focused on their tasks that they'd been ignoring their grumbling bellies, but they had finally reached a point where it was fitting to stop, so now Christophe was slouched over the desk, his head on top of his arms to nap briefly, and Victor was sat on the rug with Makkachin sprawled over his lap.

Now that they were free to their own thoughts, Victor thought of only one person. "How... how did you know that... that Masumi liked you? In the beginning, I mean."

Christophe snorted immediately. Then he sat back, turned his chair a little to better peer down at his friend and got comfortable. "I didn't."

Victor frowned and looked up at him inquisitively. "You didn't? Then... how...?"

Christophe smiled nostalgically. "I saw him in the hallways, just a random encounter. I don't remember what I said, but I remember winking at him -" Victor grinned, picturing it perfectly; a younger Christophe flirting with the unfamiliar, handsome Katsukan boy. "- And he just... looked at me, and humphed. Like he found me only vaguely funny. Then he went into his father's meeting, and I didn't see him again until one of my mother's parties. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, kept grinning because he couldn't keep his eyes off of me.  _Then_ I knew." Christophe chuckled at the memory, enjoyed replaying it in his mind for a moment. He didn't remember who first made a move to leave the party, but he did remember that Masumi was a good kisser from the beginning, even though he had been just as inexperienced as Christophe had been.

Then Christophe smirked down at his friend. "Why did you ask me that?"

Victor immediately blushed. Christophe had to conceal a laugh as a cough, and Victor glared up at him, seeing through him. "I..."

"How are things going with your skater-boy?" It was Victor's turn to cough genuinely, and Christophe laughed openly this time. "Well, then?"

As Victor blushed scarlet, Christophe smiled to himself. He never thought he'd see his friend look like this, so bashful over a boy. He remembered vaguely another boy at school wax over a girl he'd fallen in love with over one of the term breaks, and had rolled his eyes over the boy's naivety. Firstly, they were only thirteen at the time, what did they know about love? And secondly, the boy was a moron; what girl could fall in love with someone who never did any homework because he couldn't be bothered?

With that in mind, Victor didn't deserve Christophe's teasing. Ever since they were children, Victor had possessed a discipline that Christophe had always respected; when he wished to be, Victor was easily distracted and carefree in his days of naivety, and distant and listless when he was unable to afford being naive anymore. But when Victor turned his head to something, he always did so with determination and drive; as school children he'd always been ahead of his school work so that they could take the weekends off to skate. Now that they were adults the projects they had been working on had revealed Victor to be highly organised, capable to reprioritising and problem solving at the drop of a hat. He had impressed even his friend, and today had been no exception; there were a handful of moments when Victor's mind obviously flitted elsewhere, accompanied by something wistful in his eye, and then he was back in their office, calculating the budget changes to fix the damp they'd found in one of the hospital wards.

The sooner they finished their work for the day, the sooner Victor could sneak away to his skater in Kara.

Now that they had put their tasks on hold, Victor was allowed to be as wistful as he wanted. Instead he frowned and distracted himself for a moment by scratching Makkachin's favourite spot behind his ears for him. "I don't know. Yes, I guess things are going well, but..."

Christophe frowned, opened his mouth to tease his friend some more, and then thought better of it. He sighed, and studied Victor properly.

In the months since the Yule Festival Opening Skating Exhibition in Piter, Victor had... changed. Not in a bad way, not at all, but... Christophe wasn't sure yet what to make of it. Victor would swing wildly from wondrously happy some days - Christophe knew which evenings Victor snuck out to see Tosuu Yuri, because Victor was almost always all smiles at breakfast the following day - to thoughtful melancholy. No matter Victor's mood, their projects were truly a distraction from the skater, not the skater from the work. For all the joy his new friendship - Victor refused to use any other term for it, no matter how much Christophe teased him about  _courting_ the Katsukan skater - it was also a source of worry.

It did make Christophe smile though. He wondered... had he looked like this once, when he and Masumi were lovers and hiding, when they were pining for each other during the long separations between Christophe's visits to Turicum? Had he used his studies to distract himself from thoughts of his lover? He remembered with fondness the days when he had worried about whether their relationship was worth it, whether Masumi truly liked Christophe as much as he liked him, loved him even. At the time, worrying about such things had been agonising. With hindsight, even after all they had lost and suffered, such days seemed so rosy; what Christophe would give, to go back to such ignorant bliss, to love that burned both too hot and not hot enough. Now, seeing Victor go through the same... Christophe almost envied him.

 _May my friend not suffer the same fate that I did_ , he prayed.

Christophe cleared his throat, and spoke with more genuine curiosity; no teasing. "Does he still not know your name?"

Victor shrank into himself.  _Ah_ , Christophe realised. And there was the source of Victor's conflicting moods concerning his lost boy. "No. I... I haven't said anything." Victor's face shrivelled up with guilty misery. "I... I shouldn't have lied in the first place."

Christophe frowned; was that truly such a terrible thing? "Victor, you're the heir to one of the most powerful clans in the kingdom;  _of course_ you lied to this boy you had only just met. Anonymity is a shield; you think I go around telling the men that I meet that my name is 'Giacometti'?" Christophe didn't mention the fact that not many even asked for his given name, let alone his family name. Those who did, usually out of a perfectly normal and polite curiosity, Christophe took a moment to enjoy recycling old teacher's names just for the fleeting thrill. The last time, he'd introduced himself as 'Chris Karpesik'. Well, not the last time, the time before that; last time names had not been exchanged at all.

"Chris, it's been months... it's hardly like we've just met any more," Victor pointed out quietly, chastising himself. Makkachin gave a whimper and nudged Victor's hand with his nose, caught his fingers with a lick before Victor stroked his head affectionately.

Chris said nothing. It wasn't as though he disagreed particularly.

It really wasn't like any of this was simple, for either of them. They were two young homosexual men, living in a time when their preferences for lust and companionship were not acceptable. At best they could hope to be left alone to their affairs - and that was all they could have, affairs - but... nothing more.

It was rare when Christophe resented this, this variation he had from the norm. Then again, when he thought of it more, what he resented most was _all of it_. If he had never been caught, or if he had never met Masumi in the first place, what would life have been for him? His parents would have arranged a fortuitous marriage for him - he knew that there had once been discussions when he was only a child with the Crispinos, when their daughter Sara was barely out of the cradle, about a betrothal - and... what then? Dependent on what his bride was like, possibly he could hope for companionship, an ally maybe, but... he would have had to breed children. The notion made Christophe feel sick, having to 'do his duty' with a woman who probably didn't want him in her body any more than he wished to be in hers. And they'd have to do it repeatedly, until it worked enough times for his duty to be done.

No. Just no.

He suddenly thought of Masumi beneath him in bed, moaning for more, the look on his face in particular... how lost he looked to pleasure that he only wanted from Christophe, that Christophe wanted to give only to him. His gut remembered how many times he had begged for the same from Masumi, how desperately he wanted to disintegrate for his lover, knowing that Masumi would love him until he was whole again.

Christophe thought of the men he met in the bar that he and Victor would go to in Piter, where everyone could just be themselves. He thought of the times he'd gone on his knees for someone, the times when he looked down at someone on their knees for him, the taste of someone's tongue against his and the hot slide of someone's body with the oil he kept in his coat pocket for such occasions. Good, satisfying at the time, but... nothing compared to what he had once. Though God... he would take that over the marriage he was supposed to have.

He remembered one of Masumi's letters, where he had admitted that he had slept with someone else. He remembered the guilt, because he had already visited the pleasure house by then and not confessed the same. He remembered letting himself wish for a moment that the world was different, that no one had had to suffer because of them, and that he could have just stayed faithful to Masumi and Masumi to him, and not have to move on. Move on to what?

Peering down at his best friend and his dog, Christophe resented it all anew. He hated how uncertain Victor was, even though it was so patently clear that Victor was falling in love with this Tosuu Yuri. It all should have been so much simpler, it should have been a world where Victor had never been hurt, could have spent the last few years not shying away from every interested glance or flirtatious compliment, so that perhaps he might have been more prepared for this young man who had so thoroughly caught his attention. Because then, when Christophe asked the following question, the answer might have been obvious.

"Does he like you?"

Victor blinked up at Christophe, totally taken by surprise. "... Huh?"

Christophe smiled, trying to hide how sad his smile was, uncertain whether it had worked. "Your Yuri, does he like you?"

Victor blushed again. "Well... we're friends -"

"No, Victor, you know what I mean," Christophe interrupted. Victor just stared at him, unable to speak. He did know what Christophe meant, but...

"I don't know."

Christophe sighed and leant forward in his chair. "I know, my friend, I know..." He said quietly. Then he fixed Victor with his hazel eyes. "When you're together, do you worry like this?"

Victor looked down at Makkachin, almost as if asking the poodle if he did. Makkachin whimpered; answer enough. "Some times. Not often, but... some times." He gave a soft smile. "He always notices though, and asks whether I'm alright. Then we just skate together, or talk - about other things - and I worry a little less."

Christophe smiled at that, trying to picture it. He had never met this young man, had no idea what he was like beyond how Victor described him - and he had described him _so badly_ , confessing that he couldn't describe the mysterious skater at all; _"Yuri is Yuri!"_. 'Shy and kind' didn't exactly sound like anything that would really pique Christophe's interests, but given Victor's past he could understand why Victor would like someone he described as 'gentle'. But he had a vague recollection of the skater from the Yule Festival; he could picture someone with dark hair and a slim physique next to Victor, making his friend smile again.

Once such an image would have made him jealous; they'd both come a long way since their days as school boys together, and Christophe's first crush. He hadn't forgotten them, those days when Victor was the brightest light in his life, but it had been a long time since he had missed those days.

"I'd say that if worrying about this is ruining your time with him, then you should tell him. If he likes you, he'll understand, as long as you explain yourself properly. But if it's not interfering, then..." Christophe shrugged. "Then it's not exactly necessary, is it? He's not likely to find out on his own; why would Lord Victor Feltsman be visiting him all the way in Kara, after all?" And he winked at Victor, who gave a light chuckle. Then he reached out and touched Victor's knee, getting his friend's attention. "Really though... it all depends on what you want."

_What do you want from this man, Victor?_

Victor's face went blank. Christophe knew that look; he knew to be patient as well, to wait for Victor to think of a proper answer. He retracted his hand, sat up straight, smiled at Makkachin as the dog came over to be petted, as if the poodle recognised as well that Victor needed time and space. Then, quicker than Christophe expected -

"I want to stay by his side."

* * *

XXV

* * *

He was still falling more often than not.

Yuri turned slowly on to his back, calmly took a moment to measure whether his ankle was alright from the bad landing. No pain, good. He got back up, brushed his clothes off, took a deep breath, and kicked back to speed again.

It was Nichiyōbi, but Victor hadn't come. It had taken until midday for Yuri to admit to himself that he was disappointed not to see him - Victor hadn't said anything about having plans, had even said a few days ago that he was looking forward to coming - and now the sun was beginning to set and... and...

Yuri slowed to a halt, sighing again. He'd been looking forward to spending the day together as they normally did, even though they only spent time at the frozen lake, skating and then retreating to the cottage to eat lunch. Some times they'd return to skate again, movements made slower and lazy after lunch and the mid-afternoon sun. Some times they'd just stay in the cottage, talking.

He liked listening to Victor. Victor would tell him about the projects that he was responsible for in Piter, under the command of Lord Yakov Feltsman himself. It was... relieving, in a way, to hear that Victor worked so hard and so much; Yuri had worried, upon hearing that Victor was from the wealthy and affluent Nikiforov family, that he was just a socialite, that all he would have to talk about was court gossip and his hobbies. He liked listening to Victor talk about the things he wanted to achieve; it made his heart swell to realise that Victor wanted to do good for its own sake, not for any political capital. And whenever Victor did talk about his hobbies it was about skating in the winter, off-ice dancing practice during the summer, and it was often with the lament that he didn't have much time to devote to either, and that he was so lucky to be able to skate with Yuri all year long now.

The summer was over now. The nights were lengthening again; soon Yuri would be waking in the dark still to go to the bookshop, and returning home in the dark too. He had loved that summer, spending the golden light of the sinking sun with Victor as often as they could. Now they were having to use lanterns to make their way to the lake every evening. Victor and Makkachin would fly straight to the cottage, usually decline Yuri's offer of dinner, having already eaten at home, and then they'd get their skates and go.

 _Their_ skates; Victor had started leaving his at the cottage. It had made Yuri's heart swell the first time he asked, back in the Spring, to leave them behind at the cottage; it was Victor's promise to keep coming back.

Yuri had brought them today to the lake, hopeful, even though usually Victor would come to the cottage, knock on the door and then - if Yuri was still asleep, which he often was - let himself in, and make himself at home whilst Yuri dragged himself out of bed. Yuri had told him he could come whenever he liked, the door would always be unlocked and he was welcome to let himself in, and the first time Victor had done that, Yuri had had to teach Victor how to use the kettle. Yuri had teased Victor about it all day.

It was either tease him, or... Yuri had wanted to kiss him, that morning he came down to the sound of lots of confused clanking and the opening of cupboards, to find Victor in the kitchen looking lost and confused.  _"I wanted to make you tea for when you woke up, but..."_

Oh Victor.

On the ice, Yuri couldn't help but smile at the memory. Then he sighed again. He wanted Victor to be there with him, making him smile like that more. He always wanted Victor to be there, even when he was; Yuri just wished for him to never leave.

" _Yuri!_ "

Yuri gasped, and looked up. There Victor was, soaring in with Makkachin, who barked gleefully, tongue lolling.

The smile that spread over Yuri's face was like lightning in that it struck in an instant. Unlike lightning however, it stayed. " _Victor!_ "

As the giant flying dog came into a graceful land on the bank, Yuri skated over in a sprint, yanked his skates off and scrambled up the bank in just his socks to his friend. "You came!"

Victor jumped off of Makkachin's shrinking back and ran the rest of the way, Makkachin beating him to Yuri. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Yuri!" He scowled at the floor. "My brother _demanded_ I take him into town."

It was the worst day  _ever_. Yurio had complained the night before at dinner that Victor never spent any time with him, stated that his elder brother was going to spend the whole of the day of rest with him, and then had the nerve to complain about  _everything_ , including Victor's very presence, for the whole day. Towards the end of it, Victor had finally run out of patience and snapped back that there was no wonder he never spent time with his little brother if he was going to be such a brat the whole time.

The outburst had shocked them both, shocked Victor into apologising immediately, and shocked Yura into silence for the rest of the day. It took Yura a few more hours to apologise too, his head turned away to hide his shame.

As Victor finished explaining he realised Yuri was chuckling. Looking up from the ground - where he had been trying to direct his ire, rather than at Yuri - Victor took in the lovely sight of Yuri bent down to lavish affection to Makkachin even as he chuckled at Victor. "Sounds like you both get on very well!"

Victor spluttered as a denial tripped over itself trying to get off his tongue, then he laughed too. "In a way, I guess!"

Yuri stood upright, shorter in just his socks, and then smiled up at Victor. "I'm glad you made it."

_So am I. I always am._

"I umm... brought your skates, just in case." Yuri's smile turned shy, as it always did, any time that he dared to do anything. All it did was make Victor's smile all the brighter, realising that Yuri really had hoped he'd come.

Watching Yuri turn back to ice, bending to pick up his abandoned skates, Victor remembered his own words to Christophe.  _"I want to stay by his side."_ All day he had been so distracted, hoping that Yurio would be done with him quickly so he could leave, even as he knew that it wasn't fair to his little brother to treat him like that, no matter how spoilt Yura had been.

It wasn't fair to Yuri either. He'd kept him waiting... "Yuri!" He grabbed the younger man's hand, making Yuri turn to face him over his shoulder. "I... I really am sorry I didn't come sooner, Yuri... it's..."  _It's not fair. It wouldn't be fair if for some reason I never returned; if I got caught or... how would I be able to tell you not to wait for me?_

_How would I be able to tell you the truth if one day I couldn't come back to you?_

Yuri looked away, discomforted. He didn't really feel like he had a leg to stand on; hadn't he kept Victor waiting too, all those times he'd been too anxious to leave the cottage? This was just how it was, not being able to contact each other in between. It was hardly like they could write to each other; Yuri was nobody, and Victor was high-born, and... and...

... And they weren't really _just_ friends... were they? Yuri didn't want to just be friends, even if he didn't know what he did want them to be. He just wanted to be selfish, and for Victor to keep coming to see him, to have more of Victor's time, even if that meant risking Victor's reputation every time he snuck away from his family to fly away.

"Victor, it's... it's alright. You have a duty to your family. I... I shouldn't have -"  _I shouldn't have hoped so much. I shouldn't be so selfish, wanting you here with me at the expense of everything else in your life. I shouldn't -_

"No, it's _not_ alright!" Victor interrupted, his grip on Yuri's hand tight like a vice. He was shaking, unable to look at Yuri, his beautiful face screwed up with... agony.

Yuri's eyes widened with concern. He turned in an instant towards his friend, tightening his own grip on Victor's hand too. Why did Victor look so troubled? "Victor...?"

Victor flinched, like Yuri had struck him somehow. He even whimpered. Yuri's fingers twitched in response, uncertain. "I-I..."

_I'm so selfish... I can't keep doing this. I can't bear this, lying, knowing that when you say I have a duty to my family you don't know what that really means... you think I'm someone I'm not... you deserve to know who you're opening yourself up to, who it is that you wait for, who you skate with, who you let into your home... I want to tell you my brother's real name, my best friend's, my father's... mine._

_I want you to smile at me exactly as I am, without me having to be careful of my words, without me keeping secrets from you._

"I... I'm so sorry... I... I should have done this months ago, when... when we first became friends, when I knew I could trust you, not... not all this time later..." Victor tried to breath properly, horrifically ashamed. He had no right to be crying as he said these things; it was his fault.

Something warm touched his cheek, and he started. There was Yuri, looking up at him with such worry. Oh... Yuri was worried about  _him_. It was just his hand, his fingers soft and warm on Victor's skin. Victor had to close his eyes, knowing he didn't deserve such tenderness, whilst at the same time desperately wishing for it to never end. What he would give, for Yuri to touch him like this always. "Victor, don't cry..."

Victor sniffed, trying indeed not to, and then reluctantly pulled Yuri's hand away.  _Please, o God, give me the strength to tell the truth, so that I deserve such gentleness._ He closed his eyes, taking the coward's way out, so he wouldn't see Yuri's face turn.

"When we first met properly here I-I... I told you my name's... my name's -"

"Nikiforov," Yuri supplied, as if to help Victor speak as he struggled. He squeezed both of Victor's hands. "I know, I remember. You're from one of the wealthiest families in Piter -"

"That's not true."

Yuri froze, confused. Why wouldn't Victor look at him? Why... why did he look like he was choking? Why was he crying even as he tried speak? What was so bad that it would tear Victor apart like this? He didn't understand. "I... what do you mean, that's not true?"

Victor twitched uncomfortably, and tried to soften his blunt words. "I-I mean, it... it sort of is, but not really, I... oh God, I'm making a mess of this, I... I mean..." He took a quick gulp of air, and tried to pull himself together enough to keep going. It was too late now to take it all back, far too late. "My mother's name was Nikiforov, before... before she married my father."

Yuri stared at him. Oh... he still didn't understand Victor. Was he... was he trying to tell Yuri that there was some scandal with his parents, some inherited shame or...? He didn't understand.

"My father's name is... is..."  _Please don't take him from me..._ "... F-Feltsman. Y-Yakov Feltsman."

Yuri's hands went limp in Victor's. "Feltsman..." Yuri repeated tonelessly.

 _Please... please... I can't lose him..._ "My name is Victor Feltsman. Lo..." Victor had never felt more shameful of this. " _Lord_ Victor Feltsman."

Not for the first or last time in his life, Victor wished he could have been anyone else.

And that he didn't ruin everything good in his life.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...
> 
> Next chapter is already in the works, aiming for next Wednesday, going to return to a normal-ish schedule!
> 
> Seriously though, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Feel free to let me know how cruel I am for leaving you on this overly-dramatic cliffhanger ;-) Comments are writing fuel!
> 
> Otherwise... hmm... not much to report really. Mostly, been focused on writing this. It was a bit funny; I finished the last chapter without much of an idea of what to write next, and then opened a new chapter, put fingers to keys... and this came out :-)


	14. XXVI-XXXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards.
> 
> Not going to lie... I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I really don't want to spend another week on this. So... well, here you go! Please comment after and let me know whether the whole chapter worked!

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

XXVI

* * *

"My name is Lo...  _Lord_ Victor Feltsman."

_..._

_..._

_... Huh...?_

Yuri stared at Victor. At his friend who couldn't look at him.

Tears dribbled out of Victor's closed eyes and ran down his cheeks like unchecked streams. "I... I'm so... I'm so sorry, Yuri..."

Yuri blinked. He didn't understand. He did, but not really. He understood the words, he understood that Victor had just told him that his name wasn't Victor Nikiforov, that he wasn't a member of one of most influential families in the Piter court, and he understood that Victor was sorry, but... he didn't understand...

 _Victor's so upset... why am_ I _not feeling anything?_

Yuri took stock of himself. He was upright, somehow. He was not asleep and this wasn't a dream; his hands were both holding and being held by Victor's, though the confusion had taken away his grip. Victor's hand were sweaty in his, trembling.

Yuri's heart was pounding almost painfully. He was too aware of his own breathing, as though he was having to be certain that he didn't forget to breathe. But, beyond that, he... he felt almost nothing.

Why didn't he feel anything?

This was meant to be a cue, surely? Yuri knew that that voice that liked to tell him things he didn't want to hear, things that hurt, it was undoubtedly  _dying_ to pipe up... why hadn't it...?

He had to supply the words instead.

Lord Victor Feltsman... son of Lord Yakov, the current leader of the Feltsman clan, whose territory stretched from Urajio on the banks of the Ribenhai River in the East, bordering the Katsuki lands across the river, to the city of Kashiwa in the west, bordering the Giacometti and the Crispino lands, to the edges of the Beruto Sea in the North, from which Piter sat only a few miles up the Ladoga River. Lord Victor Feltsman who would one day inherit one of the most powerful and wealthy clans within the Bin kingdom. _The_  Lord Victor Feltsman who was already mentioned in some of the history books that Yuri had read at the bookshop, as the grandson of the feared warmonger Lord Vladimir Feltsman, father of the more diplomatic but never underestimated Lord Yakov Feltsman.

Lord Victor Feltsman who practically lived as a prince in the palace in Piter, miles from Kara, who had no reason whatsoever to have anything to do with Tosuu Yuri.  _That_ Lord Victor Feltsman.

That...  _couldn't_ be his friend before him. The Victor Yuri knew was in turn incredibly bashful and also exuberant, was silly and giddy and wonderful. The Victor Yuri knew had learnt how to make tea. Had offered Yuri a handkerchief and teased him with it when he cried from anxiety. Cried himself, when he was... when he was suffering.

Yuri didn't know Lord Victor Feltsman. He didn't know him, and therefore had no need to care for him. He was not required in any way to offer comfort to such a man so far beyond his reach. Victor however, his friend Victor... that Victor he wanted to comfort, so that he'd stop crying.

Except... except...

Victor was Lord Victor Feltsman.  _Victor_ was Lord Victor Feltsman.  _Victor was Lord Victor Feltsman_. Victor was Lord... _Lord_...

Yuri was, perhaps first and foremost, always aware of the respect he owed to others; his peers, his elders, his teachers, his authority figures. Even after all these years he still bowed upon entering Minako-sensei's dance studio every time out of deference to her, even though she'd told him countless times to not stand on ceremony. Yuri owed a  _Lord_ deference. He was supposed to bow. He was supposed to greet a Lord with respect for their title. He -

But... it was Victor. His friend, Victor... Victor never wanted Yuri to bow to him, even upon meeting as strangers.

Yuri didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to feel about any of this. He didn't know what to  _do_.

So he just stared at Victor, trying hard to think of _something_... but unable to do anything at all.

His friend finally looked up. "Yuri, please, say some-" Victor flinched back, so startled by Yuri's expression that he dropped his hands. Yuri gave a whimper at the loss of touch, of proximity, but couldn't do much more than that. Why was Victor looking so aghast? What was wrong with his face, how was he looking at Victor? He was frozen, couldn't even lift his hands to check his expression with his fingers.

The penny finally dropped.  _Oh. I'm panicking._ In which case, there wasn't anything he could do at all. Reality was going to have to wait for -

Victor. Victor was saying something, his lips were moving. What was he saying? "I... I'm going to... g-go... I'm going to go..."

_No!_

But Yuri still couldn't do anything. He could barely blink. His eyes hurt... oh, because they were really wide. He really ought to blink... Victor turned and stepped away and Yuri's eyes widened all the more.  _Don't go! Please don't go! I - why can't I open my mouth and say anything?! Why am I not stopping him -_

_Because he lied._

Inside his own head, Yuri halted as  _that voice_ finally spoke up. Victor had lied to him, had been lying for months. Yuri felt foolish realising that he was shocked; he'd never once thought that Victor would lie about anything to him. He'd been so caught up in the white lies he himself told and the truths he excused himself from telling. How did he feel, past the shock, knowing that Victor had lied?

"C-Come on, Makka..."

At the edge of Yuri's awareness, he noted Makkachin's whine, the ruffle of the dog's fur as he expanded, and a deeper whimper as the poodle tried to... what was the poodle trying to tell them? If only they could understand him properly.

Yuri flinched as Victor spoke one last time from the haze of Yuri's vision, his voice catching on a sob. "I'm truly sorry, Yuri, for everything."

It was only when Makkachin gave a pained howl and then kicked off the ground into the air that Yuri finally moved. "No..."

But even as Yuri finally took a step forward, his hand reaching out to stop him, he realised he was too late, and Victor was already gone.

Victor was gone.  _Victor's gone_. Victor... " _Victor!_ "

Yuri took another step forward, and another, and another and another and another, running pointlessly.  _Please don't be gone, please may it just be my eyesight, please may I just be dreaming or going mad or_ anything _else!_

He fell to his knees at the spot where Makkachin's paw prints were dug into the grass from where he'd leapt into flight, and nearly screamed to find nothing else. It was only when Yuri sobbed that he realised he was crying. His clever mind was already betraying him, several steps further from the paw prints.

Victor had left, was gone. He had thought Yuri didn't want him to stay, which meant he probably thought Yuri didn't want him to return any time soon. Or at all. Ever.

Victor was gone, and there was no way of knowing whether he would ever come back. Victor was always the one who came to Yuri, never the other way round. And now, Yuri properly appreciated  _why_ that was.

When the moon rose over the frozen lake to find Yuri still on his knees, tears renewed a dozen times on his cheeks, it brought with it the answer to Yuri's first question to himself.

It was of no comfort whatsoever.

* * *

XXVII

* * *

He hadn't said anything.

The moment that Victor told Yuri the truth, he instantly felt relieved.  _Freed_. Then reality caught up with him, and Victor realised just how foolish he had been.

Yuri knew now. Yuri knew that he'd lied. Yuri knew who he was.

And he hadn't said _anything_ at all. Was deathly silent.

Victor was petrified. What if Yuri was angry? He couldn't bear to look up at him... he couldn't bear seeing Yuri look at him like he hated him. So he took the coward's way out for a moment, and didn't look, trying to steel himself for the moment when he knew he couldn't put it off any more.

_I should never have lied. I should have trusted Yuri from the beginning, and told him who I really was. He should have been allowed to make a decision then whether he wanted to be my... my friend or not. I shouldn't have lied..._

_... And I shouldn't have told him now either._

His own naivety stung. What good could possibly come from this?

_I thought... I thought if I didn't tell Yuri the truth, I'd lose him anyway..._

But he was about to lose him after all. He had been such a fool. And it was time to pay the price for his idiocy.

"Yuri, please, say some-" Victor's voice caught in his throat as he opened his eyes and raised his head to meet his fate, and finally saw Yuri's expression.

Yuri didn't have one. Victor had never seen Yuri's face look so... he couldn't read Yuri's face. After all these months of getting to know each other, Victor thought he knew most of Yuri's expressions; he knew so many different smiles, like when Yuri was trying not to smile because he was annoyed or when he was amused and didn't want to offend, and he knew when Yuri really was irritated, when he wasn't holding back. He knew when Yuri was tired, when he was stressed from work, and when he was stressed from worrying about his guardians. He knew when Yuri was happy, when he'd forgotten to hide behind modesty.

He didn't know this one. Was this... was this hate? Or hurt? Or... was it... was it fear...? Victor didn't know.

Victor stared at Yuri's unyielding face with horror for a punishing amount of time, hoping that Yuri would change it. Finally he realised what this expression was; Yuri was gone. He was gone somewhere far into his head, to hide and lick his wounds, somewhere far away where... where Victor couldn't reach him.

_He needs space._

"I... I'm going to..." _What? What are you going to do? Clearly it's not right to stay; you're not welcome here._  Victor did his best to keep his voice from breaking; it didn't work. "G-go... I'm going to go..."

Victor turned, his every limb feeling like lead, and walked away. He needed to leave... where was Makkachin? Ah, there. The poodle looked so sad, his canine face almost drooping in a more human frown. "C-Come on, Makka..."

Makkachin looked at Yuri for a long moment, then stood on his hind legs to paw at Victor's thighs, pushing his face into Victor's answering palm. The dog's tail didn't wag. Victor shook his head slightly;  _no, Makka, we can't stay_. Makkachin whined pitifully, got down, and reluctantly shook himself out, and waited for Victor to get on his back, his head hanging. The dog whimpered at Victor as he realised they were about to go without saying anything, and Victor halted shamefully, and looked back.

Yuri hadn't moved at all. But his expression had finally changed just enough for Victor to see... how pained he truly was.

_You did that._

The sob sounded out of Victor's chest before he could stop it.  _Stop it, you don't deserve it. You don't deserve to cry when this was all your fault; you lied, you betrayed Yuri's trust. You don't deserve tears._ "I'm truly sorry, Yuri, for everything."

_Please forgive me._

_Please..._

Makkachin gave a pained howl before kicking off the ground, as if to say he knew what a dreadful mistake this all was, and Victor heard and saw nothing as they climbed into the sky.

Victor had no recollection of that journey home. Eventually Makkachin landed on the balcony of Victor's room, and shrank under him when Victor didn't move. Under Victor's useless limbs Makkachin slithered out and then re-burrowed into the human's body, sighing when Victor slowly returned the embrace and wrapped his arms round Makkachin's body.

"Wh-what have I done, Makkachin...?" Makkachin pulled back to look up at his master, and Victor tried not to cry face-to-face with his dog's sympathetic expression. "I'm so stupid, Makkachin... _why_ did I do that? Why did I... why did I tell Yuri that? I... I shouldn't have..." Victor's eyes widened as something far worse occurred to him. "I shouldn't have left... how can I go back now?" Victor's hands slowly reached up to his face to stem the tide, to hide behind when the walls all inevitably fell. "Yuri... he won't want to see me anymore, not after this... I can't go back...  _I can't go back!_ "

So often heartbreak is described like the breaking of glass. It's so very far from that... so very much worse. It's agonising. No metaphor can truly compare to what a man really sounds like when he sobs so desperately that somehow it's just not enough. Like he's trying to expel all the oxygen out of his lungs, as though that will cleanse himself of his pain, but also as if it's meant to be punishing, when finally there's nothing left within and it starts to choke, to burn _because_ there's nothing left.

It was so very lonely, when Victor cried and cried into Makkachin's fur on his bedroom balcony; he was miles away from the one person he truly wanted to be there to comfort him.

* * *

xxvii

* * *

Makkachin was far from an ordinary dog. That goes without saying, doesn't it?

Makkachin was the runt of a litter of five. Not long after he was born, his mother's breeder managed to bribe and blackmail his way into a connection with one of the advisers of the Feltsman court. The sheer greed of it caught Mila's attention, so on a whim she decided to mess around a little.

The first puppy she gave the gift of Telekinesis to. When the power manifested, the dog became a menace; everything he thought of wanting zoomed into his mouth, from a ball to a stick to a squirrel. When he got into his new owner's kitchen, he was soon after returned to the breeder.

The second puppy was given Aquakinesis. For the most part, no one really noticed for quite some time, until the dog's owner's young daughter fell off one of the bridges over the Ladoga River and nearly drowned; the dog barked at the water until it parted, and she dragged the young girl out of the mud at the bottom of the river to safety. Long after the dog eventually died of old age, having been well looked after all her life, the girl offered prayers of thanks every day to the shrine she built for her until she too passed away.

The third puppy was given Pyrokinesis. That didn't turn out so well.

The fourth was given Terrakinesis. It never quite got the hang of this power, but its owner spent the entirety of the dog's life trying to keep it clean; how it got so muddy  _all the time_ he really didn't know.

And the fifth... the fifth Mila went to town on.

Makkachin, as the runt, was by far the tiniest. So Mila over-corrected that, and made it so that he would grow to be as big as a horse. Then, on second thoughts, that might get inconvenient for the poor pup, so she made it so that he could do so at will. Then she realised for that to be possible, Makkachin would have to be a little smarter in order to exercise his will like that, so she made him more intelligent. Not  _really_ intelligent, he wasn't going to start reading dictionaries or solve Yurio's Mathematics assignments for him, but... Makkachin understood what was going on around him a lot better than most dogs.

And just because she thought it would be funny, Mila made it so he could fly as well. Just to really rub it in with his siblings who'd all grown fat on their mother's milk and left none for him.

Makkachin was still a poodle. He still liked chewing Victor's slippers, playing with Potya even though she didn't like playing with him, and he  _loved_ Victor. Victor, in Makkachin's shiny eyes, was mother, brother, and his own puppy combined; he  _doted_ on Victor. Whatever made Victor happy made Makkachin happy, and whatever made Victor sad made Makkachin sad too.

The human male that Victor called Yuri and that Makkachin flew to a lot made Victor happy. Very happy. It wasn't something Makkachin could see or smell or taste, but he knew it. Yuri also made Victor very sad, but without actually doing anything. He never hurt Victor; in fact all Yuri ever did was look after Victor and try to make Victor happy. Yuri made Victor happy, so he made Makkachin happy. Yuri smelt of sencha and ice and bamboo, very different from all the other humans Makkachin knew, and he quite liked how Yuri smelt. He was also very good at petting Makkachin, but of course that's hardly relevant. Exactly like Victor, when Yuri was happy Makkachin was happy, and when Yuri was sad Makkachin was sad. All relatively uncomplicated.

For an ordinary dog, perhaps.

Makkachin knew -  _knew_ \- that both Victor and Yuri didn't tell each other all of the truth. He knew that they thought of one thing, and then either didn't tell the other or told them something else. He knew that the things they hadn't told each other, whatever they were, were making them unhappy  _because_ they hadn't told each other. He knew that they were both scared that if they did, it would change things. He also knew - and he knew this better than either Yuri or Victor - that it could change things for the better, that in the end they might both be even happier.

Makkachin wanted both Victor and Yuri to be happier. So really it should have been simple; Victor and Yuri needed to come back to each other to be happier.

So it was deeply frustrating that Victor refused to go to Yuri.

Makkachin waited for Victor to turn to him and ask for him to take him to Yuri. Makkachin never minded; he loved the flying, loved greeting Yuri with kisses, loved watching them together, and to a degree even loved taking Victor home again after, knowing that they'd be back soon - but Victor hadn't asked Makkachin to do this for a long time. Once, Victor had asked him to fly him to Yuri almost every evening, and then slowly only once every few evenings. Then Victor told Yuri his truth, become terribly upset -  _frightened_ , even - and had asked Makkachin to take him home, and they hadn't gone back since.

The concept of weeks and months wasn't really something that Makkachin was smart enough to be aware of, however. He wasn't _that_ clever. But it was long enough for the nights to get even longer, and the days to become that little bit chillier, and for more leaves to fall from the trees; Makkachin could smell frost coming. The snow wasn't due for a while yet, but... at this rate, the snow would arrive first before they saw Yuri again.

And Makkachin refused to allow that to happen. He also simply didn't countenance any notion of not seeing Yuri again at all. For Victor's sake.

Since that day that they had come home, and Victor had cried and cried to him, Victor hadn't been the same. It was like that other time, when that bad human hurt him. Victor struggled to pay anything attention during the day, barely ate anything at meal times, and as soon as he could he would retreat to his bedroom and curl up in bed. But he struggled to get to sleep, would just lie there deep in thought, his mind so far away that not even Makkachin could rouse him. One night Victor tried to get to sleep by pouring a glass of something clear and smelly from a bottle he took from his father's study, but Victor just made a face every time he took a sip, and eventually gave up on the drink. Makkachin was relieved when he did that; no wonder Victor made faces, it must have tasted as bad as it smelt, and it smelt  _awful_. Humans consumed some very strange things. Victor wouldn't even let him drink it, just gasped and pushed Makkachin away, and then threw the contents of the glass away. The smell still lingered, pickling Makkachin's nostrils.

Chris tried to help. Makkachin liked Chris; Chris made Victor happy too, but in a different way from how Yuri made Victor happy. But Makkachin knew that Chris preferred Potya the cat to him, whereas Yuri  _adored_ Makkachin, so of course Makkachin adored Yuri more than Chris. Still, Makkachin was glad that Chris was there; the morning after, when dawn came and Victor hadn't gotten to sleep yet, Chris came and talked to Victor, and then went and told everyone that Victor was sick.

Victor was so unhappy Makkachin didn't think there was much distinction between that and being sick. But Chris went away for the day and came back later that evening smelling of the dust from the building that he and Victor usually spent their days at. He made sure that Victor ate, talked when Victor could talk, stayed when Victor cried again. When Victor finally fell asleep, thankfully dreamlessly, Chris tucked Makkachin up with Victor and went, and in the morning crept back in to check on his friend; Victor was so exhausted that he didn't wake, so Chris asked Makkachin - needlessly - to look after Victor again for the day.

Eventually Victor got up, but things got worse; he started to pretend.

Makkachin knew when Victor was pretending. For a start, he could smell Victor's real emotions, could smell his misery. Makkachin didn't know why Victor even bothered to pretend; Victor's family all knew when he was pretending too. Victor's little brother even turned to Makkachin one day with a scowl; "the hell's wrong with him  _now_?!" Makkachin just tilted his head to one side; did the human boy expect him to actually answer?

The full moon turned to new, and finally the break point came; Victor woke in the middle of the night, eyes wide in awe, then closing as his dream shattered from him in the dark. At the foot of his bed, Makkachin woke and lifted his head, and whimpered as Victor started crying quietly, and neither went back to sleep that night. When dawn came, Makkachin lost his patience.

He jumped down from the bed with a bark, grabbed the duvet with his teeth and pulled. Victor grabbed the other end just in time. "Not now, Makka, I... I'm tired, I'm not in the mood to play -"

Makkachin interrupted with a growl; neither was he. He dropped the duvet, uninterested in it, and barked at Victor.  _Come on!_ He wanted to say in the tongue of humans.  _Let's go! You need to go to Yuri!_

Victor didn't move, just blinked forlornly from his pillow. Makkachin whined for a moment in defeat, and then shook his head with determination and barked again.  _Right now!_

Victor frowned. "Makka...?"

 _Get out of bed!_ Makkachin jumped back up on to the bed, and grabbed Victor's pyjama collar with his teeth and pulled pointedly. Victor grumbled with annoyance but got up, started getting ready sluggishly. Makkachin barked triumphantly, and ran to the balcony doors expectantly. There was just enough room on the balcony for him to expand to his full size in order to fly -

Victor, dressed, headed for the door to the corridor. Makkachin barked at him again, annoyed.  _Wrong way! This way! We're going to see Yuri!_

Victor paused with his hand on the doorknob, and didn't look back at Makkachin. Then, his voice wobbling he glanced back at his dog. "We... we can't, Makka. We can't go to see Yuri."

Makkachin whined and barked again.  _Why not?_ Makkachin shook his head, not understanding.  _Why not?! You're miserable, you need to see Yuri! Yuri makes you smile properly, makes you happy! I want you to be happy, so I need to take you to Yuri!_

"Makkachin, stop."

Makkachin did, and stared at Victor. But Victor wouldn't even look at him.

 _I don't understand... I_ know _you want Yuri. You_ need _Yuri. I know that Yuri wants you too. Why won't you go to him?_

"We need to forget about him," Victor said quietly, so quietly that even Makkachin struggled to hear him. "I need to... to..." Tears fell before Victor even realised he was about to cry.

Enough.

Makkachin didn't hesitate, even as conflicting forces pulled him in opposite directions. What should have been the strongest would have taken him to Victor to lick away his tears. But the force that won out -

Makkachin turned, jumped up on to his hind legs and scrambled at the handle to the balcony door. It was awkward, but finally it gave way, and the door opened, the chill air sweeping into the room just as the dog scampered out. "Wait, what... Makkachin! What are you -?!"

Makkachin shook himself out and leapt into the air, and was soaring away before Victor could even run to the balcony doors to try and stop him. Makkachin ignored Victor shouting his name, shouting for him to return.  _No! You need Yuri! So, if you won't go to Yuri..._

_... I'll bring Yuri to you!_

He knew the way, of course. It had been frustrating, all those years when the Red Raven had told him he couldn't come back to the iced lake. Makkachin knew that he remembered the way even then, but that knowledge was stuck in a ball in his head, out of reach, and no matter what Makkachin did he couldn't catch it. But he remembered now; the smell of the river and then the bamboo forest, the scents of the town at the edge of it, and the whiff of the ice. He had never flown towards the frozen lake at dawn before, and flying towards the sun as it crested over the horizon was wondrous. The smells and sights he was looking for that would guide him were slightly different in the autumn morning, but he would recognise it anyway. He panted happily as he caught sight of the bamboo and soared in, landing in the spot he knew was the mossiest and softest next to the lake, shrank down to his normal size and ran towards the cottage where he knew Yuri was, barking gleefully.

_Yuri! Yuri, come out! I've come to get you to take you to Victor!_

Before Makkachin made it to the front door, intending on scratching at it to get Yuri's attention, the door flung open and Yuri peered out expectantly,  _hopefully_ , and he smiled widely as Makkachin launched himself at him. They fell, and Yuri laughed with relieved happiness as Makkachin gave him lots and lots of dog kisses -  _I missed you! You smell so nice! Can I have a treat? Please scratch me right there!_ \- and then Yuri sat up. "Makkachin! I've missed you so much, I'm so glad to see you!" Then he looked up. "Victor! You're... wait... Victor?"

Yuri got up off the floor, ignoring Makkachin for a moment, and went back to the front door, looking out. Confused, he looked back at Makkachin. Makkachin whined quietly. He understood Yuri's confusion; why wasn't Victor with him?

Yuri's face switched in an instant from hopeful confusion to desperate anguish. He fled from the house, sprinting away; Makkachin followed him to the lake, watched as Yuri searched, hoping that Victor was meeting him there and Makkachin had merely gone to fetch him.  _I'm sorry, Yuri, I tried to bring Victor with me, I really did!_

"Victor...?"

Makkachin whimpered at Yuri's voice. He had just come from that same sadness, that same misery; it made Makkachin want to howl at finding that Yuri was just as unhappy as Victor. He whimpered aloud as Yuri sank to his knees, slowly padded to the young human and nudged at his leg with his nose. Yuri slowly turned to stare at Makkachin, tears streaming down his face. "Makka, where's Victor?"

Makkachin hung his head, ashamed. Then, as Yuri gasped, he looked back up, alarmed. Yuri stared at Makkachin with horror. "Oh God... is Victor alright?! Is he... is he... Makkachin, why have you come here alone?! Is it because he's hurt or he's sick or... or -!"

Makkachin panicked at Yuri's panic.  _No!Victor's unhappy, but he's healthy! He isn't hurt! How do I calm Yuri?!_ _How do I tell him -?!_

_Oh... wait..._

Makkachin let his tongue loll out and wagged his tail enthusiastically, barking happily.  _Victor's fine!_ He tried to say with every part of him, and internally he sighed with relief as Yuri stopped panicking. "Ah... umm... does that mean... Victor's... Victor's alright?"

Makkachin reached forward and licked at Yuri's face.  _Come, no more tears._ Yuri eventually giggled as his weak attempts to push the dog away to stop him slobbering all over him failed, and he settled for just stroking Makkachin's head affectionately. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Please... please be a 'yes'..." Makkachin licked at Yuri's hand, his best way to confirm, and Yuri wiped at his face with his kimono's sleeve. "That's... that's a relief. Then..." Yuri took hold of Makkachin's head with both hands gently and stared into the dog's eyes with cautious curiosity. "Why are _you_ here, Makkachin?"

_Oh, yes. Of course._

Makkachin stood upright with an excited bark and shook out his fur. Yuri's eyes widened and he stood to be level with the poodle's new height, and cried out in alarm as Makkachin attempted to manhandle him on to his back. "Makka -! What are you doing?! No, I... oh."

Makkachin stopped at the 'oh' and blinked at Yuri.  _Why 'oh'?_

Yuri hung his head. "Makkachin, did... did you come here to... to take me to Victor?"

Makkachin barked in affirmative.

"Makka, I can't."

Makkachin blinked. This was _really_ getting frustrating. He gave a sulking howl.  _Why not?!_

Yuri gave Makkachin a weak, affectionate smile and stroked down the dog's enormous nose. "Victor's... Victor's Lord Feltsman. This far away from the Imperial Capital he's practically royalty, and he... he lives in the Great Palace of Piter." Yuri sighed, but he smiled too. "All this time he's been sneaking away to come here, so as not to cause trouble for anyone. I've no doubt that if Lord Yakov Feltsman knew that his son was wasting his evenings in the company of a lowly apprentice accountant, he'd put a stop to it." Yuri gave a huffing chuckle, devoid of actual humour. "Even when I thought he was just a Nikiforov I knew that he shouldn't have been coming here just for me. I... I've been so terribly selfish, keeping him." Yuri's eyes glistened, and Makkachin whimpered. He could  _smell_ Yuri's thoughts, the ones he wouldn't voice aloud; he didn't know what Yuri was thinking, but it smelt  _rotten_. But before he could grumble, Yuri smiled at Makkachin again gently. "Makka, if you took me to Piter, it would only cause Victor trouble. He'd have to explain... I don't think it would end well. You can't take me to Victor, no matter... no matter how much I wish you could."

As Makkachin realised that Yuri was right, he gave a short growl of irritation and then shrank back to his normal size. Yuri smiled and knelt again before him to stroke his head in gratitude. "I'm sorry, Makkachin, that you came all this way. I'm sorry for wasting your time... time... _argh_!"

Makkachin jumped out of the way as Yuri darted to his feet and sprinted back to the cottage. Makkachin ran after him, and nearly skidded into the door as Yuri came out again and closed the front door behind him, carrying a satchel. "I'm late for work! Oh god, Plisetsky-san's going to be... I didn't even over-sleep today!" He turned to Makkachin, looking anxious again. "I'm sorry, Makkachin, but I have to go to work now! I... I don't know whether... whether I'll ever see you again..."

Makkachin hadn't come all this way for a goodbye. Nope. He had a better idea; he barked excitedly and ran to the end of the garden path, and looked back at Yuri.  _Are you coming?_

"... Eh?"

* * *

XXIX

* * *

Yuri wasn't sure what to make of his life anymore.

Victor hadn't come back in over a month. Nevertheless, every day, Yuri waited. On the days he worked, he would go to the shop, and the moment that he could he rushed back to the bamboo forest. He checked in at the lake, trying to control his nervous hope, and then went back home to the cottage. He'd make tea for two, and when the second cup went cold he would go down to the lake to skate, taking Victor's abandoned skates with him.

Just in case.

It became a routine. A prayer, made every day, for Victor's return. On his days off he stayed at home as much as he could; reading, cleaning, cooking... waiting. Eventually his mind gave up, knowing that Victor wasn't coming back, and Yuri stopped hurrying home. And yet... he still made extra tea. And when he skated - not every day, but most days - he took Victor's skates too without even thinking about it. They sat on the bank with a water flask and Yuri's sandals, and on one of Yuri's days off he even polished the leather, sharpened the blades after he had finished his own.

It wasn't painless. For the first week, the crushing defeat of another day without Victor's company brought tears every night. The sight of the vacant lake made Yuri's stomach clench with despair. He got into the habit of eating larger lunches at the shop, knowing he'd have no appetite in the evening; some nights he only drank that tea, and then went to bed, hoping against hope that there would be a knock at the door.

It didn't surprise him however.

And then, Makkachin surprised him.

Yuri had been washing up his breakfast - a bowl of porridge that he'd mostly just stirred and not actually eaten - when he heard it. He knew that sound so well; after all,  _nothing_ sounded like the swoop of a flying dog coming in to land. He'd ran to the door and wrenched it open, only to find Makkachin alone. At first he'd feared the worst, that Makkachin had come with terrible news, but the clever dog always seemed to understand him; he'd reassured Yuri as best as a canine could, and then...

Then Makkachin didn't leave.

Yuri didn't really understand what Makkachin had been hoping to achieve after he first arrived - other than trying to tug Yuri on to his back to fly him away, that had been fairly obvious - so he hadn't known what to do when Makkachin made it somewhat clear that he was going to follow him to the shop. Because he was running late Yuri had had to run through the forest, Makkachin at his heels, trying to tell the dog to go home back to Victor. Makkachin barked, as if in acknowledgement, but then didn't go. So, that first day, Yuri found himself in the unexpected position of having to apologise for his lateness to Plisetsky-san and also having to quickly come up with an excuse for why Makkachin had followed him into the shop and simply plonked himself down behind the counter next to Yuri's chair.

Yuri told him Makkachin was his dog, and for some reason he was being extra clingy this morning. Upon hearing the claim, Makkachin had wagged his tail and nuzzled Yuri's hand affectionately. As though it was all true.

Plisetsky-san merely shrugged, and carried on. Later, the aged accountant came out with a bowl of water and strips of chicken, even smiled a little as the poodle licked his fingers after. His wife had had a shiba inu, he told Yuri before disappearing into his office again.

"I didn't even know he had a wife," Yuri admitted to Makkachin in an embarrassed whisper.

Yuri remembered Victor telling him how well behaved Makkachin was, that when he was working he could take Makkachin with him for company and the poodle wouldn't try to distract him. The memory stung, along with the image of Victor kissing Makkachin's nose affectionately as he praised the dog, but Yuri smiled as he realised Victor hadn't been exaggerating; Makkachin quietly just laid at Yuri's side as he sorted through a delivery of books that had been running late from the publisher in the Capital. The dog interrupted Yuri's work only once, with a paw on Yuri's knee, and Yuri eventually realised he was asking to be let out; Plisetsky-san opened the back door and Makkachin stayed out there for a while, sniffing curiously at everything before coming back in in his own time. When a client came in Makkachin stayed calm enough, only raising his head with interest and panting excitedly, and approaching only when acknowledged, sitting before the stranger politely and not pawing at him. And Yuri found himself relieved at lunch time; he wasn't hungry, so he fed his bento box to Makkachin.

"Sorry, I don't know what Victor normally feeds you..." He trailed off awkwardly, not that Makkachin seemed to mind, munching down on the tamago Yuri had cooked that morning. He said exactly the same thing later, when he was making dinner, his stomach finally growling at him louder than the dog could.

Yuri kept waiting for Makkachin to leave. "Victor... Victor must be worried sick about you," he half-scolded. Makkachin hung his head, but he growled when Yuri opened the door and gestured that he ought to return to Piter. Then the poodle ran upstairs, Yuri running after him in time to see Makkachin follow his nose to Yuri's bedroom.

Makkachin refused to leave for three days. He followed Yuri to work, to the grocers - Yuri had to buy twice as much of everything - and to the lake for practice and back to the house. He went to sleep at Yuri's feet on his futon, and invariably woke up either spooning or being spooned by Yuri. He even waited patiently outside the bath house, and knowing he was outside made Yuri rush.

"Is this what you do with Victor too?" Yuri asked him one night as he played with him. He chuckled as he found the spot that made Makkachin turn to jelly in his lap. "Must be nice. Victor... Victor must be missing you."

Makkachin sat up and grabbed Yuri's sleeve with his teeth and gave a pointed tug. Yuri's heart sank; he knew what the dog was trying to say. "I can't come with you, Makka."

Makkachin tugged again anyway. Then he just waited, his tail wagging slowly.

Whatever energy Yuri had left at the end of the day betrayed him and fled. Yuri's shoulders sunk under the weight upon them, and slowly he reached out to stroke Makkachin's head. Not to offer comfort, but to receive it. "You must miss him, Makka. I... I miss him... _I miss Victor_." Tears threatened again, and Yuri swallowed hard, trying to keep them at bay. He hated crying so much like this, being made so vulnerable by his mourning. He wanted to stop missing Victor, and he knew there was only two ways of doing that.

One of those ways was neither possible nor preferable; Yuri would never forget Victor. The other was...

"I want him to come back."

Makkachin's head raised, and his tail wagged harder. The corner of Yuri's mouth twitched in response. Then he looked up at the poodle and smiled as best as he could.

"Will you take something to him for me?"

Finally, Makkachin left.

* * *

XXX

* * *

"OI, VICTOR! Where's that mangy dog of yours?!"

Victor had rather hoped no one would notice. Then he wouldn't have to lie. He knew exactly where Makkachin had gone, knew it in his heart, his bones. But he could hardly tell everyone that his dog had flown to Kara, in the Saga prefecture of the Katsukan lands.

So he'd elected to say absolutely nothing, and hope that that would work. Needless to say, it didn't.

The third day that Makkachin remained missing, Lord Yakov summoned his son to his study after dinner. He'd poured Victor a glass of vodka, poured one himself, downed it, and then -

"Vitya. Is there something you need to tell me?"

Victor's stomach curdled. For starters, he hadn't heard his father call him 'Vitya' in a while; Yakov never over-used it, so that his son always understood that to use it was significant. Then, Victor realised the trap; there wasn't really a way out of this one. If he had blurted out a quick 'no!' then his father would have seen right through his panic. Now, having hesitated, it was equally revealing. Yes, was the simple answer. Yes, there was something Victor would have wanted to tell his father, but...

_Father... I met someone, someone incredibly special._

But... he couldn't tell him that.

Victor hung his head. "No, Papa." Yakov gave a quiet grumble, a discontented sound deep in his chest that acknowledged that they were both aware of the lie. Then... "There... there was something. But... there isn't anymore." Victor blinked, refusing to cry at his closest attempt to admission. "I'm sorry, Papa."

_If I did tell you... I don't want to know how you would react. I don't want to know what you would do. I love you, Papa, too much to find out._

Yakov stared at his son, astonished. That was more than he had expected to get out of Victor, and yet also... it broke his heart, seeing his son so anguished. He reached out and put a hand on his Vitya's shoulder. "I know, my boy. I'm sorry too."

Then, after they both downed their drinks, Victor changed the subject quickly, and soon excused himself. The weekend had arrived, and like the weekends past since he had left Yuri, he didn't have any plans other than to hide from everyone. Earlier in the day Chris had told him he was an idiot, and that he was going to look up the fastest way to Kara for him, and Victor's weak attempts to dissuade him had been mostly ignored. Victor barely had the energy to make sure that he didn't take up Chris' offer there and then, let alone deal with Chris when he finally came back to him with an answer. Because  _of course_ Victor wanted to go to Kara, just... not only for Makkachin.

_I can't... how could I face Yuri now, after all this time? He would never forgive me..._

Victor was so deep in his thoughts he didn't notice that his balcony door was open. Or that his dog was slumped on his bed. Then -

"Makka...? MAKKACHIN!" Makkachin let out a yelp as Victor jumped on top of him, hugging the poodle so closely he started to suffocate. Then he contradicted himself by twisting in Victor's embrace and licking every inch of Victor's face that he could reach whilst wriggling madly to get as close as possible. "I missed you so much! You _stupid_ dog, why did you disappear for so long?!"

The reunion lasted a while, Victor alternating between scolding Makkachin for leaving, for going where he knew he'd gone, and for not coming back for so long, and then just telling him how relieved he was that he was back, and that he loved him so very, very much. Makkachin let Victor fuss over him for a while, and then pawed at Victor's hands to try and get his attention properly.

 _Finally_ , Victor saw the note. It was attached to a string that had a wide loop, where it must have been tied round one of Makkachin's legs at his full size. It could really only have been written by one particular person.

"M-Makka...?" Victor looked at his dog for...  _anything_.  _Anything_ that would make it easier to unfold the note and read it. Makkachin panted and wagged his tail. That would have to do for encouragement. Victor picked it up from the bed with trembling fingers, and slowly unfolded the piece of paper.

 _Victor,_  
_Please forgive me._  
_Please come back._  
_Yuri_

Victor stared at the note for an untold amount of time. For all he knew, the universe had collapsed upon itself around him, for all that he was aware.

Then, he raised his head and just looked at Makkachin. Who barked happily, and hopped off the bed and ran to the door. And this time, Victor didn't hesitate to follow.

It was only as they flew over the Ribenhai River that Victor realised that he was in the clothes he'd worn to dinner; not his finest, but definitely not anything like what he'd been wearing to pretend that he wasn't as high-class as he was. Then he remembered and reprimanded himself; he didn't need to lie anymore. Yuri knew. It was only right that Victor appear as he actually was.

"Makkachin?" The dog turned his over-sized head a little, to show Victor he was listening. "How... how was he? Was... was he angry? Does..."  _Does he hate me? Why does Yuri think that_ he _is the one who needs to be forgiven? Have I wasted all this time not coming to see him?_

_Can... can I hope...?_

All too quickly the lake appeared beneath them, and Makkachin landed softly. Victor looked out across the ice, remembering bitterly the last time he'd been there. He'd been so foolish, so naive... so cowardly. Had he merely postponed his own reckoning by fleeing that night? Had he come simply so that they could say farewell properly? He dared not hope for better; 'goodbye' was more than he deserved.

Yuri wasn't there. They walked to the cottage, and -

The door swung open as Victor stepped on to the garden path. His breath caught at the sight of Yuri staring out at him, his face a picture of hope and anguish, and then -

" _Victor!_ "

Yuri ran, ran without elegance, his eyes on Victor's face and not on his feet, nearly tripping over his own haste, and he ploughed into Victor's ready and open embrace. The force of it nearly knocked Victor back, but all he paid heed to was making sure that his arms closed around Yuri's back, holding him close. Yuri's face was buried in his collar, his arms wrapped round Victor's torso.

_Yuri's hugging me... Yuri... Yuri, Yuri, Yuri..._

Victor buried his own face into Yuri's shoulder, and let out a shuddering sigh of relief as he caught what Yuri was muttering into his jacket: "you're here, you're here, you're here..."

"Yes... I'm here..." Victor tentatively lifted a hand to the back of Yuri's head, revelled in the softness of Yuri's hair against his fingers, his cheek. Stupidly, for all they had put themselves through that lonely month apart, Victor couldn't help but do nothing more than smile. Yuri was hugging him.  _Yuri_ was hugging him.  _Yuri_ was _hugging_ him... and it felt wonderful. "I'm back..."

For as long as he could, Victor savoured everything about holding Yuri in his arms. How warm he was, how soft the shoulder of his kimono was. The faint scent of jasmine and ylang ylang, from the rough salt-soap bars that Yuri used when he scrubbed the sweat of the day away every evening, as most Katsukans did. Even the sound of Yuri's pulse in his ear, the beats just out of sync with his own heartbeat, and the slight catches in his breathing that shook Yuri's shoulders. He frowned, and then Yuri pulled away slowly, his hands on Victor's shoulders to hold him. As if to make sure he wasn't too close, but also so he couldn't get too far away.

Yuri's face was a picture; bright red, tears threatening, and Victor only realised as Yuri opened his mouth to speak that... oh. He was angry.

"BAKA!"

Victor blinked. "... Eh?"

Yuri's hands fisted in Victor's jacket, and his face seethed with frustration. "BAKA!" He shouted in Victor's face again, and Victor finally realised that he was speaking in the Katsukan dialect - how many times had Lady Mari called him a 'baka' too? - and Yuri was so angry that 'idiot' just didn't cut it. "You stupid,  _stupid_... why did you run away like that?! How could you?! You... you... _coward!_ "

Victor trembled, took it. "I... I know... I... I'm so -"

"Why didn't you stay?!" One of Yuri's fists flexed, as if it were going to let go and do something else, but instead he gripped Victor's jacket again.

A tear ran down Victor's cheek. "I'm sorry... I... I was..." He closed his eyes, hoping it would make it easier. "I was scared..."

" _Shitte iru_ _!_ "

Victor's eyes flew open and he looked properly at Yuri. He knew that one too, from his lessons at school. _'I know'_.

Yuri's fists let go, and the anger disappeared from him. "I-I know. I'm... I'm sorry too..." His bottom lip trembled. "I'm sorry you were scared of... of me, of... of how I would react... I don't... I don't want you to be scared of me, not ever..."

Victor's eyes widened so much it started to ache. Then he flinched... how terrible it must feel, to think that someone was  _frightened_ of you. He responded without thinking; he pulled Yuri back into his embrace, and held on tightly. Yuri, startled, took only a moment to relax into the unexpected second hug, and melted into it again.

In the safety of Yuri's arms, Victor spoke soft confessions. "I thought you'd hate me... for lying to you all this time..."

Victor felt Yuri tense, and then release. He tried not to sigh as Yuri's hand rose from his shoulders to his hair and stroked the back of his head comfortingly. Yuri murmured a negative. "Hm-mm. Never. I could never hate you... e-even when you're  _this_ late for skating practice."

Victor's eyes popped open, and he gave a choking, huffing laugh, felt Yuri smile into his shoulder. He was about to apologise for that too, but Yuri started speaking first. "I don't hate you. I'm... I'm not even angry with you, not about your name. I'm angry that you didn't come all this time, that you didn't wait to hear what I might have had to say, but... not about who you are." Yuri fidgeted in Victor's arms, trying to back away just a little bit. Reluctantly, Victor let him, but Yuri didn't go far at all, only enough so they could be face to face. "Victor... I never cared when I thought you were a Nikiforov. And I don't care that you're a Feltsman either. You could be a prince, or a pauper, for all that I care. So long as... so long as you stay by my side."

Victor frowned, disbelieving. "But... when I told you... you..." He trailed off, not wanting to remember how blankly Yuri had stared at him -  _through_ him - how distant he had been.

Yuri hung his head, looking ashamed. "I know... I'm sorry. I... when you told me, I... I was shocked. I've had some time to think about what happened then," and he looked up at Victor quickly, then returned to his original trail of thought. "I think... I think I was waiting to feel something... betrayal, I think. I kept thinking that I should have been furious with you, that I should have detested the sight of you -" Victor flinched at his description, and Yuri's hands on his shoulders tightened in response, trying to offer something to balance his words. "But... I didn't. It just... those feelings never came. Not then, and not since. I was only hurt by your leaving... but then eventually, I realised... of course you would have left, I wasn't saying anything. What would we have said if you had stayed? I don't even know."

Yuri took a step back, only a small one, so they were standing close together, hands falling to each other's elbows, neither prepared to let go entirely just yet. Victor waited, not sure whether he wanted to speak himself just yet, wanting to hear anything else Yuri had to say.

After a moment, Yuri looked up at him shyly. "I thought... I thought for a while that maybe I wasn't angry because I understood. You're... you're Lord Victor Feltsman; it's not safe to let strangers know who you really are. What if I hadn't been trustworthy, and sold you out to someone? I don't know who, but... of course you wouldn't tell me who you really were, of course you'd give me a fake name. Although... Victor... you really should have come up with something else; the Nikiforov's are still powerful and wealthy, it was still a risk."

The two chuckled weakly over the inconsequential feedback, and Yuri continued. "But I didn't think that at the time, when you first told me. I couldn't imagine your reasons at all, so it couldn't have been because I understood. But then Makkachin came, and I realised..." He took a pause, procrastinated by righting Victor's jacket from where his fists had bunched the material up. Any excuse to be close. "I realised that all I really thought in that moment when you told me was that... you were so frightened... I knew that what you were saying was meant to be painful, was meant to matter to me... but all I could think of was that it was clearly so painful for you too. That's all that mattered."

Victor tried to get his head round what Yuri was saying. He had hoped for something like this for so long, yet he had never thought that Yuri would...

If he understood Yuri right, then... Yuri had forgiven him there and then, almost immediately. All this time that he had been away, too scared to come and ask... and Yuri had already forgiven him.

_Please don't be a dream..._

Yuri bowed his head in shame. "Victor, I'm so sorry. I should have said something to you, tried to comfort you then but I didn't... I'm so sorry... please, forgive me..."

Victor stepped forward, back into Yuri's embrace, the smaller man reacting faster to intercept him, and Victor smiled through relieved tears. "O-Of cou-rse... o-of course I forgive you... please forgive me too, for... for not coming back sooner..."

Yuri was already nodding, stroking his hair again. "Only if you keep returning to me..."

Victor was already nodding too. "Yes... _yes_."

 _I promise_.

Yuri pulled away again, his cheeks rosy from shyness. He fished in his hakama pocket and offered something to Victor. "Here..." It was the handkerchief Victor had given him months ago, when Yuri had cried out his anxiety on the ice; it did absolutely nothing to help Victor stop crying, only caused tears anew. Had Yuri kept it on him all this time, Victor wondered as he dried his eyes, or had he brought it out for today in the hope of returning it? Victor didn't care to know, he realised, was touched either way.

"Do... do you want to come in? I can make tea..."

So Victor found himself at Yuri's kitchen table again, sitting on one of the chairs that he knew would always creak when he sat down on it, watching Yuri flit around the kitchen preparing the tea. "Yuri?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you... do you really not mind who I am?"

Yuri paused, his back to Victor as he poured water into the teapot, and put the kettle back on its hook close to the fire. He came back and put the teapot on the table, got the cups they always used, and sat across from Victor looking thoughtful. "Should I mind more? Do you want me to...?"

"No!" Victor started at his own reaction, and tried to think of a proper way to explain.

Across the table Yuri recovered from Victor's exclamation and smiled. "I... I thought not. That's why you didn't tell me in the first place, isn't it? You didn't want me to treat you differently."

Victor smiled too, relieved, and nodded.

Yuri's smile grew more humoured. "You know, I wondered; if... _when_  you returned, whether I would instinctively want to bow or speak differently or... I don't know."

Victor's gut tightened. "Do you?"

Yuri shook his head. "No. It's..." And he looked up and smiled so beautifully Victor's heart swelled. "When I think of it, instead I think of you tripping over your own skates on the ice." Victor's ego died a very quick death. "And you vomiting in the bushes and... and how messily you eat ramen and how loudly you said you liked all the food you ate at the Sakura Festival..."

 _"Vkusno!"_ Victor had exclaimed at the time in the Feltsman dialect. Everyone within sight had stopped and stared at them for a good few seconds, making Yuri turn bright red from the sudden exposure, and Victor had just carried on eating without a care until he noticed that Yuri wasn't eating too, and excitedly encouraged him to try the mochi.

"I... it's almost impossible not to think of you as just-Victor," Yuri said as he poured tea and passed Victor's cup to him. Victor studied it for a moment, suddenly unsure. The cup was beautiful, as was its match and the teapot; it was cast iron with an intricate pattern around the lips of the cups and over the teapot lid. Too fancy for every day use. As if reading Victor's thoughts, Yuri smiled understandingly. "It's only for guests, Victor. There's more cups to this set; it comes out when my aunt, uncle and cousin come."

Victor didn't need to drink the tea to feel warm at the thought that followed; that he was akin to _family_.

"Do you not mind...?"

Victor looked up from the cup in his hand to Yuri's clouded face. "Do I mind... what?"

Yuri's eyes flickered up quickly to Victor's face and then down to the table again. "I'm not anybody, Victor. I don't have a title, or anything at all. Your friend 'Chris' who you've mentioned before... you meant Lord Christophe Giacometti, right?" After a moment, trying to understand where Yuri was going with this, Victor nodded. "Hmm. I'm not... I'm not like -"

"I know," Victor interrupted sternly. Yuri looked up, stunned. He wouldn't have Yuri feel bad about his origins, about the modest life he led. "Yuri... you said that it's impossible to think of me as anyone but Victor, right?" Yuri nodded, the beginnings of a smile glowing. "Well, me too. You're Yuri. If I came here looking for another lord, or anyone else I have to socialise with in Piter, then what a fool I would be. And I don't come here to 'rough it' with you, or anything stupid like that either."

Yuri looked at him so tenderly, his brow furrowed with disbelief. "Why do you come here then...?" Yuri said quietly, so quietly perhaps he didn't mean to say it.

Victor smiled easily. "Because your skating, and everything that you are and do, is..." He hesitated, partly to steel himself, and partly because he knew that Yuri was about to blush like mad, and he didn't want to miss it. "... is so beautiful I can't get enough of it."

There it was; the exact shade of crimson that Yuri's face would blossom to. Victor had missed it so much. Smiling, he drank his tea, letting Yuri recover in his own time. He had missed this too, just sitting there with Yuri, working around his shyness.

_I missed you so much..._

"Ano..." Victor looked up to see Yuri fidgeting nervously in his chair. "I... whilst you were away, I was... well, no, before that, I was... umm..." Yuri grimaced, shook his head and started again more firmly. "I've been practicing something. Will you... watch me?"

Victor's face lit up. He almost burnt the back of his throat swallowing his tea as quickly as possible.

He had missed this too, walking down from the cottage to the lake, carrying their skates, changing into them at the frozen lake's side. They warmed up for a few minutes, skating laps side by side, then breaking away to test a spin or a jump. Victor tried to do his favourite jump and flubbed the landing from lack of practice, and got up with Yuri's offered hand, laughing. Then Yuri grew quieter, shyer, and Victor took the hint and went to sit on the bank, attaching the guards to the blades of his skates, warmed his hands in Makkachin's fur. He looked up, his eyes only for Yuri.

Yuri took up a pose, head low, face serene, and -

Victor heard the piano in the raise of Yuri's arms. Watched a story play out of a young boy feeling a little at a loss in the peculiar world he inhabited, and then with the first quad-double toe combination jump, found a passion on the ice. The young boy slowly learnt, with awkward turns smoothing out with practice, how to be beautiful on his skates, to fly even as he kicked into a spin. The lessons came in fast, and the boy worked hard to take them on, to get better, and better and better, until -

Victor smiled as he saw the moment when Yuri's face lightened, when he forgot everything and just enjoyed what he was doing. He flew into a triple jump and confidently accelerated out of it, like nothing could slow him down, except...

Victor saw the moment when he came into Yuri's life, and changed it beyond recognition. Yuri gave into the beauty that only he could create, and glided across the ice, stretching into a figure that only a goddess of beauty could replicate. He kicked into a forward jump, his knee bending too much on the landing, wobbled but stayed upright, and Victor flinched, willing Yuri on. The next jump, very swiftly after, was over-rotated, making Yuri hobble uncertainly, but the invisible piano was still playing, Yuri still dancing out the notes so that Victor could hear it.

Not for a second did Victor care about the hand Yuri had to put down to stop himself from falling, or the stumbles when he couldn't keep straight. And when Yuri fell on the quadruple flip jump that Victor had spent the summer teaching him, his favourite, the jump that Victor was most proud of and called his own, Victor's mouth dropped open. He tried not to blink so he wouldn't miss a single second of Yuri's last spin, dipping low and then rising with elegance that only Yuri possessed for the final notes of that piano, and stopped breathing when Yuri's hand stretched out toward him.

_For you. Only for you._

Victor dropped his head into both hands, overwhelmed.

* * *

XXXI

* * *

Yuri gasped for breath, nearly choked as one caught in his throat as Victor's head fell into his hands on the bank. His stomach churned...

_Does he... did he understand...?_

Yuri let his hand drop and bent his back to grip at his own knees. God, he was exhausted. It had been such a long day; he'd gone to work, wasted so many pieces of paper writing that note to attach to Makkachin, and the wait... he'd had to tell himself to keep himself busy, that even if Victor came that very night it wouldn't be for a while, that Makkachin had to return first. He'd bathed, scrubbing at his skin, trying not to think that it was  _for_ Victor in case he did come...

And then he did.

There was still so much to say, secrets that Yuri had kept from Victor too. He couldn't - literally _couldn't_ \- tell him about his guardians and their real identities, but he could at least tell Victor that much, that it was Phichit who gave him the ice to begin with. He needed to tell Victor that he didn't care about Victor being a Feltsman because... because he was so selfish he was going to keep him anyway, that he wasn't prepared to give Victor up, not even for his duty to his clan. Even if people came to hate him for being the one who took Victor away, Yuri didn't care. Let them hate him, so long as Victor loved him...

In the mean time though, his skating would have to suffice where words were not enough tonight.

It wasn't perfect, and Yuri was frustrated every time he made a mistake, but... it was the best run through of this choreography yet. He was glad he tried Victor's quadruple flip jump, if only for the look on Victor's face, even though he couldn't land it. He had only thought to put the jump in as he was in the middle of skating, soon after he realised just how much fun he was having. He loved doing this, skating like this, with a reason, a purpose, a narrative. He was glad he thought of the quad flip...

 _This could only be as beautiful as it is because of you, Victor, because you made my skating so much better_ _. Thank you..._

Yuri stood upright as Victor slowly lifted his face -  _is he crying? No, his face is dry... is he mad? I messed up his jump again... which is it?!_

He watched, stupefied, as Victor scooted over to the edge of the lake, and fiddled with the guards to his skates. Then he frowned, frustrated as one of them wouldn't come off, and then just yanked off both skates entirely, and stepped on to the ice in nothing but his socks. He looked up at Yuri with a smile -

Yuri kicked at the ice to move forward towards Victor, smiling in return. "Victor! I did great, right?!"

In a single second, so much happened.

Victor started running in just his socks on the surface of the ice towards Yuri.

Yuri's eyes widened, and he accelerated towards Victor too, meaning to scold him for ruining his socks, to warn him that he would get them soaked and his feet would get wet and cold and -

Victor launched himself at Yuri.

As Yuri's eyes widened, Victor's closed.

In a tree overlooking, the Red Raven gasped.

As Victor's body collided with Yuri's, Yuri could do absolutely nothing to stop them from falling. Victor's hands holding Yuri's head cradled it as the ice hit Yuri's back, and Victor's weight punched what was left of the air in Yuri's lungs out.

The second was over.

Yuri blinked up at the stars above in bewilderment. He was pretty sure he knew what had just happened, but... it had happened so fast. Had it? Then Victor pulled back, but his angelic face was ruined with worry, his blue eyes blown wide with guilty panic. "I-I'm so sorry! Oh god, after everything that's happened! But -! That was so beautiful! And... and... and -!"

_You kissed me..._

_... do it again..._

Yuri writhed beneath Victor to release his arms and seized the back of Victor's head and tugged him down, closing his eyes tightly and hoping to the Gods that he aimed his lips right. His lips smashed into Victor's lips, eliciting a startled breath, followed by another as Victor almost immediately gave in and kissed him back.

_... Perfect... I've wanted to kiss Victor for so long... Perfect..._

When they ran out of air, Victor lifted himself up with all the grace of a baby deer on ice. "Th-This... this was the only thing I... I could think of t-to surprise you more than... than you've surprised me..." Victor gasped awkwardly, trying to catch his breath back, all the while trying to keep calm about what they had just done.

_I kissed Victor... Victor kissed me... he kissed me..._

Yuri smiled up at Victor tenderly. "Ah... really?"

The two stared at each other for a moment, then fell to awkward giggles, their only response to the intensity of it all. Then Yuri's eyes dropped to Victor's mouth, tempted again, caught Victor's eyes doing the same, and Victor's hands behind Yuri's head tugged him up as Yuri pulled him down again.

At the ice's edge, Makkachin's tail wagged. And in the tree above, Mila smiled. "About damn time..." She flew off, to give them some privacy.

And somewhere that cannot be measured in miles away, a head raised in confusion. The confusion didn't last for long; a decision was made.

The Great Wizard Georgi of Popovich stood and walked away from the gaping hole in the wall of his castle, through which he had banished a dragon, and set about doing what he should have done a long time ago.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about location names:...
> 
> Obviously, this isn't set in the real world. This is not Russia, or Japan. There's no definite map in my head per se, other than each territory sits roughly in relation to each other as their corresponding countries do.
> 
> (i.e. Japan/Katsuki is to the East from Russia/Feltsman across the Ribenhai River/Sea of Japan, with Switzerland/Giacometti and Italy/Crispino sitting to the South West of Russia/Feltsman.)
> 
> Beyond that... well, imagine a rough diagonal line from Piter/St Petersburg to Urajio/Vladivostok, across the river to Dazaifu/Fukuoka, to Kara/???, and finally to Hasetsu/???. So it's not a perfectly drawn out geography :-P
> 
> Other than that, what other names are about to drop...
> 
> Kashiwa translates to 'oak'; one of the original fortresses built where Kaliningrad sits today translates to 'oak forest'.  
> Beruto translates to 'belt', which is a suspected origin for 'Baltic'.  
> And Ladoga Lake is the source of Neva river, which Piter is built next to and runs to the Beruto Sea.
> 
> Thank you, Wikipedia.
> 
> Anyway... please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I struggled with this one, I wish I hadn't gone down this whole 'wrong name' path in the end :-(
> 
> Also... I wonder who will be the 100th kudos...? :-D


	15. XXXII-XXXIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's late everyone! This has not been a fantastic week, I'm afraid.
> 
> Going to be moving to Friday's to post from now on; it's my permanent day off.
> 
> I'm afraid this hasn't been edited a lot - it's been one of those weeks, I'm really god-damned tired - but... I finally finished it today and I just want it OUT.
> 
> (December 2018 - has been re-edited since, should be tidier now.)
> 
> I'll issue a warning of sorts for this chapter as well; there is discussion of the religions that exist in this universe. I don't advocate any particular one (I'm sure you'll all figure out roughly which real religions are being mirrored), but I will say this much: I do believe in the separation of State and Religion, and I do believe that faith is individual, not collective, and by that I mean that I think that a healthy understanding of God or Gods is personal, critical and interpretive, not prescriptive, unchallenged and ignorant.
> 
> And I have to give credit to, of all things, Hideo Kojima for the quote from Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots. THAT quote I do believe in.

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Do not confuse The Pit with the Underworld.

In the Underworld - strictly speaking, not an  _Under_ world, or even a _world_ for that matter. Think of it rather as being beyond the world that you know, where the dead await their turn in the Cycle. For the likes of you and I, we participate in the Cycle without consciousness, for our souls do not actually have personalities; personalities are shaped by the bodies souls inhabit, the world that that body lives in, and the events that happen to it and subsequently they make happen. In the world of the dead, our souls have no material form, nor memories of the life and lives it had previous, and nothing will _happen_ to it. Nothing more than chance will pluck them out of the Underworld to simply be recycled into a new body, a new home, a new life.

Thus it is best to not think of the Underworld as being a  _place_ at all; it is beyond form. It is not even light, or shadow. No language can adequately describe what the Underworld truly is; even as souls are recycled, it's not even in a linear time; time itself is equally meaningless.

Likewise, treat anyone who claims to be a Reaper of any kind with suspicion. The Underworld has no sentience, no design, and certainly no agency. Anyone who says otherwise is either lying to you, or has been lied to.

The Pit however... is a little more complicated. What follows is a simplified explanation...

Imagine; The Pit was created by the malice of every living thing. Malice implies agency... ergo, The Pit is sentient too. But this malice is not from one creature, from one soul that rotted itself, but from many... ergo, The Pit is the sentience of many too. But malice is a property of something, of thoughts, of actions. Thus, The Pit is of both thought and action.

Can you imagine it now? The Pit is a  _unit_. It is its own world, fed by ours. Just as terrible deeds can be planned, sometimes executed and sometimes not, so too The Pit has its own design; it has its agents in our world, to further add to the feast.

For its agents to have success, they must have form in our world, and they must  _enter_ our world. Which means... unlike the Underworld - which you must have realised by now, is entered only one way, and exited an entirely different way, without exception - The Pit has a way in and a way out.

And so to speak... it doesn't require guards. After all... who would be mad enough to want  _into_ The Pit?

Imagine; _being_ in a place created by the worst of mankind, of thoughts of menace, of cruelty, of spite. Watch a bully cut wounds with a blade of metal or words into a victim... feel how you too have become tainted by witnessing it. There is, of course, only one way of stopping the taint, the  _smear_ it leaves on your own soul; you stop it.

That doubt you might feel? That says that you can't stop it... imagine that a thousand fold, and launch your soul into such a festering soup; that was what Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo did.

Humans cannot enter The Pit without becoming infected. There are no exceptions; to be an exception is to not be human, for to be human is to have the  _capacity_ of both great kindness and of great cruelty. Thought of something mean when in anger or when wronged? Of course. But be careful not to think too long upon it; for every moment that you do, you have the attention of The Pit. Wiser to let it forget you and move on elsewhere.

Here is the way the unsuspecting enter The Pit; through their nightmares. Dreams of vengeance will always have the attention of The Pit, and if you sink too deep into your dream, that is where you will end up, in the very beginning of The Pit. For most, by the end of the night, it'll spit you back out again to be on your way, out of disinterest; perhaps your dreams were just too little to bother with. For dreams that won't let go, or vendettas of a more intriguing scale, or even as a  _favour_ , The Pit...  _mostly_ sends you back.

The man who violated Victor... deserved better than what he became, but instead of choosing better, he... hmm. Who is to say how much he chose and how much he didn't? He most certainly didn't ask to be raped himself - be _definition_ , he did not - or to be brought up to believe that this was how one took their pleasure. Victor was not the first who he took what he wanted from, and the person who taught him this taught this to many others as well. Of all of those... Victor is sadly one of the few who The Pit has little acquaintance.

Cruelty self-propagates.

For the Three Grand Prix Fairies, people's dreams are a means of entering The Pit. But The Pit has many levels, and each one is increasingly difficult to navigate through. So they skipped all of that, and went for a slightly more direct route for one of the deeper levels; they summoned a demon.

It took a while to find the right place to do so. For starters, they did exactly what Victor imagined they had done when Yuri told him that his guardians were explorers; they got a ship from Dazaifu, which sailed them down the Ribenhai River out to sea towards the tropics, and months later found an island without a single soul upon it, barely even a palm tree on the tiny spot of sand. They shooed the crabs away, warned the dolphins and fish to keep a wide berth of the island, knowing that when they were finished the island was likely to be a bubbly mess of glass.

Last time they did this, they accidentally set a forest on fire. 'Minimal damage' was what they were going for, as Guang Hong put it.

Summoning a demon wasn't particularly hard, per se; all one had to do was say the demon's name. That might sound easy, but... how many demons' names do you know? And also, to ensure that random morons couldn't summon anything - this worked for all magical beings, including the fairies - you had to mean it. Your summoning had to have purpose, intent, and you had to declare it as soon as the demon or fairy appeared before you, lest they return to where they came from, or worse.

This was what the fairies meant when they told Yuri that if he needed them, they would come. He just had to say their names, mean it, and they would come, all dimensions meaningless. If they were truly not available when he did, they could delay or refuse the summons, but for Yuri... unlikely that they would do so; they would be gone before you could blink.

In the case of a demon, well... let's make sure that you don't try this at home.

The Three Grand Prix Fairies formed a triangle, plan in place, and focused. Leo spoke aloud the name of a demon they had once fought before, centuries ago, that had cowardly fled from them when it realised it was going to lose. 'Unfinished business' was all he had to think of to make the summons work. And work it did; the sand in the centre of the island started to melt as a sphere of unearthly heat formed, moulding slowly into -

 _"Come back for more, have you, little fae?"_ A voice burnt at their ears. Phichit winced - it felt like having tar poured into his ears - and Guang Hong flinched likewise, their eyes turning to Leo, who had drawn the short stick, as it were.  _Ready?_

Leo gave the briefest of nods, and then swiftly raised his hand towards the beast as its body became corporeal enough. Out of his back, a giant eagle of pure fire swept up and swooped on the demon, who didn't react fast enough. The eagle bit off the demon's head, and the entire body burst into flame, leaving... a shimmering tear in reality.

It was tempting to look back at the world they were about to leave. Instead, Leo shuddered as he thought of the many more monstrosities that they were undoubtedly about to encounter. Guang Hong focused his mind on what they were seeking, what they were going to have to do to find it, and summoned all his strength to face it all. Phichit thought of Yuri, of his little boy's smile when he used to pick him up from school and Yuri would run to him with open arms, already gushing about all he had learnt that day.

"Let's go."

The Three Grand Prix Fairies all leapt forward into The Pit, and were gone.

* * *

XXXII

* * *

Yuri's head was soft and warm tucked against Victor's cheek, into the crook of his shoulder. Yuri had ended up stuck there after Victor had cuddled him for so long that he'd forgotten how close they were, and instead thought of little more than...

... How right it felt.

The cuddle 'assault' had come about because Yuri admitted that he was nervous that his kisses were bad, inexperienced as he was. Victor had blinked unhelpfully at him for a very long moment and then bequeathed Yuri one of his brightest, heart-shaped smiles and threw his arms around him with a strange squeal that startled Yuri and Makkachin both. "Me too! I was - am! - so nervous too!"

Their first few kisses - when Victor eventually helped Yuri up from the ice and the two laughed as how Yuri was  _just_ taller than Victor in his socks - were... awkward at first, as noses got squished as they figured out which way to tilt their heads to fit, and then tried to work out what they were supposed to do with their lips.

On Yuri's part, he didn't remember the last time he had kissed anyone in any capacity. As a child, kisses were more often bestowed on him, by Phichit at bedtime, by his Aunt Hirokei when she visited. But kisses in return were less frequent; Yuri would shyly kiss his aunt back when she was about to return to Hasetsu, and Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo got kisses as gratitude when they gifted him something truly special. He'd kissed his cousin when she gave him the first pair of second-hand skates from her friend, so overcome with thanks that he didn't realise what he'd done until he went to bed that night, and hid his red cheeks under his blanket. But as he got older, shifting into puberty, the kisses became rarer and rarer until no one kissed him at all.

Something to be lamented, this; young men need affection too, even if they're like Lord Yurio Feltsman and loudly shout at you to 'stop being gross'.

But this had all been on cheeks, and never a... whatever Victor was to him now... before. Yuri had certainly never kissed anyone on the lips before. And the only people he'd ever  _seen_ kissing each other like that were Yuuko and Takeshi, and even then only for a split second before he averted his eyes, feeling embarrassed and guilty for interrupting a moment that he ought not to be privy to.

At the time, Yuri had - jealously - thought it was a bit gross how they seemed to be slurping at each other, but... he was beginning to understand now. Yuri tried to remember what they had been doing, round the back of Yuuko's family home, how their lips had been open and slid and grasped at each other's...  _like a dance_ , he thought. Except, Yuri learned when he parted his own lips to move against Victor's, this dance was... was...

He had nothing to compare it with. How could something as simple as the touch of lips be felt even in his  _toes_? It made his hands move without thinking to hold on to Victor, made his back arch towards him to be closer. Even though his skates made him taller by a fraction, just enough for him to have to aim his lips  _down_ , Victor still felt bigger, his chest and shoulders broader, like Yuri's arms would struggle to reach round them until, of course, they did. Victor's chest and stomach felt firm, again like nothing Yuri has a comparison to, and Victor radiated heat, almost so that the place where he wasn't in contact with felt cold for not.

And the  _sound_  was...  _obscene_... of breaths half gasped, the moan that echoed back and forth between them, the...  _squelch_ (Yuri shuddered at the descriptor, but he had no alternative) of their lips sucking the other in close.

It was instantly addictive. Yuri couldn't fathom why he hadn't spent his entire life kissing Victor - he cared not about the obvious reasons, namely that they had met properly less than a year ago, and it would have been inappropriate when they first encountered each other when Yuri was still a child - but Yuri knew this for certain; he wanted to keep on kissing Victor, for as long as Victor would kiss him back.

As for Victor... Victor was  _overflowing_.

For just over five years, Victor had struggled being particularly close to anyone. That never meant that he hadn't wanted to be, hadn't wanted to hug his loved ones at the slightest excuse, hadn't wanted to thoroughly annoy his little brother by smothering his baby cheeks with kisses until the kitten-boy scratched at him. For years, Victor had  _envied_ Christophe for being so free with his body with whomever he chose when they escaped the palace, for the love that he had shared with Masumi whilst they had the chance. Christophe knew that; they had talked about it, with the aid of a bottle of wine, about whether Victor felt too uncomfortable to come out and essentially flirt his way into liaisons, but Victor had refused to be so selfish, to let his friend go alone outside the palace or choose not to go at all. So just as Yuri had his own examples to follow on what kissing looked like, Victor... had a contradiction of examples.

Christophe, Victor knew, liked kissing with his tongue. It was a bizarre thing to witness, particularly as... Victor hadn't liked it at all himself. Nor had he liked being held up by his ass like Christophe liked to do. The people that Christophe snogged and touched all seemed to enjoy it immensely, if the expressions on their faces, the sounds that they made and the fact that they soon sought more in privacy were any indicators.

Yuri however...

...  _Yuri_...

Yuri's hands never strayed off of Victor's back, or if they did they went higher to Victor's hair, and no lower than his ribs. His tongue didn't shove itself into Victor's mouth, and his lips moved with Victor's, seeking him out and sighing with relief at finding him, at being  _found_. It was... " _P_ _erfect_..."

When Victor pulled away just enough to tell Yuri that, Yuri blushed madly, making Victor giggle, their lips a hair's breadth from each others. Then he took Yuri's face in his hands and leant back in for more perfection.

Then Yuri scolded him finally for running on the ice in his socks, and the two returned to the cottage, Makkachin barking joyously at their heels. Victor's socks hung in front of the fire to dry, and the two sat on the couch, both with their feet up on the same stool to warm their toes, their sides pressed together and hands clasped between them. The arm rest was right next to Victor, and next to Yuri was Makkachin, sprawled across more of the couch than the two men occupied, napping, wagging his tail at doggy-dreams. More tea sat getting cold on a table, entirely forgotten. To reach for the cups would have disturbed them from their positions, and neither had the courage to test how far their hand-holding could go.

It was a little awkward, actually, holding hands. Both their palms were a little sweaty, though no more than most people's hands; much like kissing, neither had anything to compare it against. But... neither wanted to let go just yet. It had taken enough nerve for Victor to lace his fingers through Yuri's, and for Yuri to let him, to refit his own fingers to be more comfortable. And Yuri's neck was beginning to feel sore from resting tilted on Victor's shoulder; his own fault, for again not having the nerve to move away.

It felt like a compromise of sorts; it was more than Yuri was used to, a complete stretch of his comfort zone, and for Victor... it was not quite enough. Victor, by his nature no matter how suppressed, was not unaffectionate; he wanted to hold Yuri as close as possible to him, and never let go. But simultaneously that felt a bit... much. It certainly would have been for Yuri, and for Victor too... he wasn't certain. Both Victor and Yuri were both reluctant to admit too much to themselves that they had no idea what they were doing.

The last time that Victor had been...  _physical_ with anyone... it had gotten out of control so quickly. Victor knew -  _knew_ \- that Yuri would never, ever hurt him like the stable boy - the very comparison felt insulting to Yuri, Yuri was  _nothing_ like that man - but... but...

The worry was still a wild spark in Victor's mind, looking for kindling to start a fire. Victor hated it...  _Yuri would never_... but it wouldn't go away.

Victor looked down at Yuri, and immediately - instinctively - smiled. Yuri was gazing into the fire, the flames reflecting on his glasses, which sat unevenly on his nose from leaning the frames against Victor's shoulder. Earlier when Yuri put his glasses back on, and Victor had leant in to kiss him again, Yuri blushed and complained that the glasses would get in the way... then Victor proved him wrong a few times.

 _I think it needs proving some more_ , Victor thought with a grin and nudged the top of Yuri's head with his chin. Yuri looked up with an inquisitive smile, his eyes dropping to Victor's lips before he could be shy about it, and Victor dipped his head enough to reach. Yuri gave a contented moan, followed immediately by an embarrassed squeak in his throat, and then as Victor smirked against his lips Yuri reached his hand up to Victor's cheek to keep him distracted there.

Practice makes perfect, after all. Both Victor and Yuri would have very happy to spend all night 'practicing', but then the clock chimed politely. Frowning as he realised just how many times the clock had chimed, Yuri slowly pulled back from Victor, biting his lip as he tried to think of a way to tell Victor that perhaps he ought to go...

Except, he didn't want Victor to go at all... but to ask him not to leave entirely was... too much...

"Is it really that late...?" Victor murmured regretfully, his fingers tightening around Yuri's as he peered over Yuri's shoulder to look at the clock in question.

Indulge this tangent; it was a beautiful clock. The clock was held up by black bamboo stilts from the grove, and were largely plain other than the natural grain of the wood, surrounding five different pendulums, of which only the longest swayed as to be expected; the others were slower, faster,  _changing_ even. But the face of the clock was something else; a slice of an enormous agate geode, upon which multiple sets of hands. The main set showed that it was eleven o'clock in the evening, and towards midnight another set of hands slowly ticked away a calendar, showing it to be late October. Around the rest of the clock face were other dials, seemingly unlinked to time. Yuri asked his guardians what the other dials measured, but they all skirted around answering him, which told Yuri enough about the clock's true nature. Later, Phichit admitted to Yuri that even he had no idea what some of the hands were ticking by, but some of them tracked time in other worlds and dimensions, which was why all of them had different paces, and why some of them seemed to have no 'pace' at all.

What Phichit still didn't tell Yuri was that there were dials buried in the layers of the geode that only the fairies could see and track, and that they didn't always remain in the clock, for what the dials actually measured was the relation of time of particular souls, creatures and other key beings in other dimensions. In fact, the clock was tracking Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo themselves; in the months that they had been absent, the paces of their dials had changed multiple times as they dived deeper into the layers of The Pit.

But none of that was visible to Victor or Yuri. Victor did however narrow his eyes at the clock and wondered what mechanism had chimed... then he shook his head, realising that that wasn't remotely important, and that Yuri - who had grown tense next to him - was.

He was nervous too. The last time he had left this place, he hadn't returned in a month. Never again would he leave Yuri for so long; in the depths of his heart, Victor promised.

Victor lifted Yuri's hands up to hold them between their chests, twisting to face Yuri properly. "Yuri... I have to return home."

Yuri's eyes glistened and he looked down at their hands, holding on to Victor's fingers tightly. "I... I know..."

 _No... no, my darling, no... don't look like that..._ Victor made one of his hands let go of Yuri's and raised it to Yuri's jaw, feather light on Yuri's skin. "Can I come back tomorrow?" Yuri's eyes widened and he looked up properly at Victor. Victor fidgeted nervously. "I... I'll need to show my face at breakfast, but... it's the week's end, and Chris and I don't have any additional appointments and..."

_And I don't want to wait until I can see you - kiss you - again._

"D-Do you have work tomo-"

"No." Yuri shook his head emphatically, a bright smile growing on his face, like it was too big to be contained. "No, I don't have work tomorrow. I... yes.  _Yes_ , come back tomorrow." He leaned a little into Victor's hand. "P-Please..."

Victor beamed and nodded happily, met Yuri's lips again with his own, and when that wasn't quite enough wrapped his arms round Yuri's shoulders to hold him closer as their kiss lengthened. One of Yuri's arms got stuck against the back of the couch, but the other made it round Victor's back just fine, and he pushed in just as Victor pulled him in. It took a while before Victor finally stood, retrieved his socks, woke a snoozing Makkachin, who yawned infectiously before trotting over to Yuri to say good night with an affectionate lick. Yuri bent to hug the dog properly; he would miss sleeping with the poodle in his bed, no matter how glad he was that they were all reunited properly now.

" _Hontōni arigatōgozaimashita_ , Makka-chan," Yuri whispered to him as he stroked Makkachin's head. The poodle panted contentedly back, licked Yuri's face once more;  _you're welcome_.

The sight pulled the corners of Victor's mouth up; he too would spoil Makkachin with his gratitude later, but first... he opened the front door and -

Froze.

It felt horrifically wrong. Victor could picture it, saying goodbye outside the house, too close to where he had left Yuri before... he couldn't do that again.

He had to go, had to maintain the farce that everyone seemed happier to play along with in Piter. He knew that there were rumours going around that he had a mistress of some kind - Christophe's ears picked up everything, and the rest Yurio invariably snarled about at some point - and Victor... Victor couldn't care less. When he had first started leaving the palace as frequently as he did, Yakov had cryptically given him a Talk; essentially, Yakov would stand by his son through anything, but that wasn't an invitation for trouble, so please don't bring any to the palace gates. The fact that his father hadn't forbidden Victor from flying away to wherever he went with Makkachin told Victor enough anyway, that the counter- _truths_ circulated too; namely, that Victor might leave to places and people unknown, but he did come back every night and slept in his own bed,  _alone_.

And whilst it was too early for  _not returning_ to be a good idea, Victor... Victor didn't want to say goodbye in the same spot, could picture Yuri's bereft face as he watched Victor fly away yet again, hoping that he would come back... he couldn't bear the thought of making Yuri suffer such doubt again.

"Nope!"

"Eh?" Yuri's eyes widened as Victor turned and shut the door again determinedly and faced Yuri again. He seized Yuri's cheeks, and smiled as Yuri's cute face distracted him from his thoughts. "Victor...?"

"I'm going to tuck you into bed!"

Yuri blinked for a moment. Then... "EH?!"

Victor grinned, un-phased by Yuri's panic. "Yep. I'm going to put you to bed, and you're going to go to sleep, and have a lie-in tomorrow - your day off, after all - and when you wake..." Victor smiled gently. "I'll be here again."

 _Like I never left_.

As the penny dropped, Yuri sighed, touched. He lifted his hands to Victor's. "You don't have to do that..."

Victor beamed. "I know! But that's what I want to do. May I?"

Yuri honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd denied Victor anything. He nodded into Victor's palms. "You... you may..."

It wasn't the first time Victor had been in Yuri's room, as he pointed out as Yuri shyly picked up his nemaki and vanished to the bathroom to change and prepare for the night. Meanwhile, Victor pulled out Yuri's futon, familiar with the practice from visits to the Katsuki family in Hasetsu, though servants had prepared the beds all of them. But it really wasn't complicated tucking the sheet under the futon's corners and which end went the pillow and how to spread the duvet evenly. It wasn't perfect - the sheet wasn't quite straight, the servants in Hasetsu made it look almost like an art form, bed-making - but it would do. The trickiest bit was making sure that Makkachin didn't get the wrong idea and think that he was sleeping there again too.

"This is so surreal," Yuri said quietly as he came back in, fidgeting with the end of his obi.

Victor patted the made bed with a smile. "What is?"

Yuri blushed. "You, here..." He looked down at Victor warily. "...  _T_ _ucking_ _me in_... like I'm a child..." Victor beamed, not caring if it was surreal. He cared only that it be  _real_. When Yuri didn't move, he pouted at Yuri and lifted the corner of the duvet pointedly. "Hai, hai..." He moved forward when Victor shuffled off from sitting on the futon, and took Victor's hand as he helped him down -needlessly, Yuri was perfectly capable to getting himself into bed. "It's even more surreal with you dressed like that..."

Victor looked down at his Imperial jacket and laughed. "I know, I look hideous, don't I?" Yuri frowned as he pulled the duvet over himself, opened his mouth to protest, but Victor beat him to it, continuing. "This will sound so spoilt, but I hate wearing things like this, they're so uncomfortable, so  _stiff_. I prefer wearing the things that I... well, that I used to wear, coming here."

Yuri leant up on one elbow, curious, his mind starting to put the various abnormalities together, like Victor's overly shiny leather boots combined with worn and tattered coats. "Were those your clothes, or did you borrow them?"

Victor twisted to sit on the edge of the futon again, legs curled up under him. "Most of them were mine; Chris and I like to escape into town, so over time we've both compiled a small separate wardrobe for when we want to vanish into the crowds." Yuri was about to recommend that Victor go to a shoe maker to get less-nice shoes... but didn't bother in the end; his boots at least were well made, were comfortable. "I actually miss wearing the yukata you gave me for the festival."

Yuri smiled instantly, flooded with memories. "Really?"

Victor smiled back, nodded, and reached out to fiddle with Yuri's collar. "It was so comfortable, so soft... even if it was a little strange not wearing any undergarments or trousers with it."

Yuri giggled. "Does that mean you don't want to go to the Bonfire Festival with me then?"

Victor's eyes widened with excitement. "What...?"

"It's in a couple of weeks..."

" _Will you be dancing?!_ " Victor seized Yuri's hands, his eyes huge and swimming with glee, dislodging Yuri from his balance on his elbow, and he fell back on to his pillow.

Yuri blushed. "Umm... yes..."

Victor squealed. " _Please can I come?!_ "

Yuri laughed, and nodded. "Of course, if you can bear not wearing trousers again -"

Victor squealed again happily and - oh. Yuri's eyes widened momentarily before sliding shut blissfully as Victor leant down and kissed him, kissed him again when Yuri lifted his hand to Victor's neck to keep him there for just a bit longer. Victor gave him one last peck before backing off to rest his chin on Yuri's chest, grinning teasingly at him. "I think I can bear that. I'll be looking forward to it."

The two beamed at each other lovingly, Yuri distractedly thinking of how he would have to get a warmer kimono for Victor, as it was far cooler than it had been for the Sakura festival in their yukatas. He could even get one with hakama for Victor, so he could wear 'trousers' after all...

"Hey, Yuri...?" Yuri looked up, berating himself from drifting. Victor however averted his eyes shyly. "Tomorrow, let's... let's go somewhere, somewhere nice... together."

Yuri's eyes widened, trying not to smile too widely, trying to keep calm, trying not to feel so touched. "W-Where?"

Victor smiled, encouraged, and shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere not too far, but outside of Kara, somewhere different. Just for the day." He beamed. "Somewhere I can treat and spoil you!"

"V-Victor...!" Yuri blushed. Victor loved it. "I..." Yuri met Victor's eyes and smiled. "I'll think of somewhere."

Victor nodded, and sat up to address Makkachin. "You don't mind an adventure, right Makka?"

The poodle barked and bounced excitedly as Victor laughed, apologising as he corrected the dog's impression; _tomorrow, Makka, not now!_

Now... now, Victor had to go home. He tucked the duvet up around Yuri's chin, and smiled down gently at him. "I'll see you in the morning..."

Before he could move to leave, Yuri's hand shot out and gripped Victor's jacket. "Vi-!" Yuri shrank into himself, ashamed of his nerves. But Victor didn't mind; he smiled kindly and lifted Yuri's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.  _Not enough_... "Just..." Yuri's hand found Victor's cheek, slid back into hair and tugged gently. "O-One more..."

Victor smiled fully and leant down and kissed Yuri properly, and  _oh_... Yuri's lips met his at exactly the right angle, exactly the right pressure, pushing up from the bed to meet him so that he didn't have to balance his weight over him. Finally - because it was never just one kiss but several, as many as they could steal from the time they had - Victor pulled away, gently pushed Yuri back down on to the bed, and kissed his forehead. "Sladkiye sny, moya krasota," he whispered into Yuri's smooth skin, and then lifted away. He tucked Yuri back in, fussing with the duvet, and translated. "Go to sleep, Yuri... I'll see you in the morning."  _I promise_.

Yuri nodded reluctantly and shuffled under the duvet to get comfortable, turning on his side. He closed his eyes when Victor didn't move, and listened to the rustle of Victor's clothes as he finally stood, picked up the candle from the bedside and whispered to Makkachin to follow. Yuri opened his eyes again to watch Victor leave, hoped Victor could see him smile back as he looked back from the door. Then he was gone, no more than quiet footsteps through the house, Makkachin's paws on the floorboards and panting, and then the thick front door closed behind them and there was a swoosh from outside as they flew away.

Yuri closed his eyes again, and tried so, so hard to get to sleep.

It didn't work.

At first, it was because Yuri would close his eyes and see Victor at his door again, his arms wide open as he ran towards him, saw Victor smiling at the kitchen table. He saw Victor watching him skate his choreography from the grassy bank, saw him running towards him on the ice and then diving towards him in a moment that lasted forever. He felt how sensitive his lips were, suddenly overworked after a lifetime of non-usage. He felt the ghost of Victor's kisses... and Yuri had to open his eyes again, before it all became a bit too much.

Yuri couldn't stop smiling.  _I... I don't think I've ever felt this happy before... Victor keeps making me think that, and proving me wrong by making me even happier..._

 _We kissed..._ Yuri's smile poured out from behind his hands, beyond containment, beyond denial.  _We kissed... and it was amazing..._

Flickers of anxiousness begged for his attention. He had so many questions after all... what were they now, two men who kissed each other like that, like... like...? He didn't know. Would Victor want to carry on kissing him like that (oh, Yuri hoped so)? Did he want to kiss Victor like that more himself (YES)? What... what more than kissing could they do...?

At that point, Yuri gave up on sleep. He got up, went downstairs back to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and stared out of the window.

The only source of light was the glow of the charms hanging up all around the cottage. There was no moonlight or starlight; it was overcast, threatening mid-Autumnal rain. Yuri hoped that it was dry further North, that Victor and Makkachin got home safe and sound and dry.

_Victor..._

The smile returned with a vengeance, and Yuri busied himself with pouring a glass of milk, thinking bemusedly that his cheeks would ache come morning if he didn't pull himself together. How Victor smiled as much as he did without staring himself, Yuri had no idea.

That did not help with the smiles. Nor did trying to think of somewhere to go with Victor.

It reminded him of one of his clients; Oda-san, one of the town magistrates, had complained for quite some time to Plisetsky-san about the young man, Hanyu-kun, who was courting Oda-san's daughter, Satoko. Without the shopkeeper saying anything more than 'uh' at the right times, Yuri managed to eavesdrop on all the advantages and disadvantages of the young man, and Yuri failed to see the negatives; the man was once one of Minako-sensei's brightest, was due to inherit one of the onsets in Kara that Yuri knew from their accounts was doing very well, and seemed to be genuinely besotted. But apparently he was  _only_ an onsen-boy... whatever that meant...

(Oda-san should have been more encouraging perhaps; Yuri had it from Yuuko-chan that Hanyu-kun had a rival for Satoko's attentions, the farm-hand Shoma, and he was the much preferred of the two as far as the daughter fancied...)

That aside... was that what Yuri and Victor were doing; courting? The onsen-heir wasn't lucky enough to get kisses, but the farm-hand was, if the rumours were to be believed, getting quite a bit more than just kisses... the thought made Yuri blush. The onsen-heir had taken Oda-san's daughter on outings before, with her mother as a chaperone, for all the good it did for him... where was it that they had gone...?

Yuri shook his head and ceased to bother trying to remember. Wherever they went clearly wasn't auspicious, do better to think of somewhere else... somewhere not too far... Yuri thought of his guardians, how they would worry if he strayed too far... it would be alright with Victor though, wouldn't it? Makkachin would protect them both...

An idea sparked; months ago, Plisetsky-san had taken Yuri to Dazaifu for business with the Revenue Office there. It had only been for the day - a _long_ day - and it had been alternatively very busy as they rushed between appointments, and a bit... dull. Yuri had barely seen anything of the city, though his curiosity swallowed up every sight as Plisetsky's cart took them through. He had caught a glimpse of a great temple that towered over all the other buildings, and marvelled as they arrived at the docks. It had been misty that day over the Ribenhai River, but he could just make out the twinkle of the lighthouse of Urajio, to which all the ferries and cargo boats aimed towards and came from.

Yuri remembered that before they returned to Kara in the evening, Plisetsky-san had taken him to 'the only place outside of the Feltsman territories that makes passable pirozhki'. Yuri hadn't wanted to be ungrateful... but he would have to disagree; Plisetsky-san himself made pirozhki better, on the rare occasions that he made it and treated Yuri at the shop ( _"you're too thin, Tosuu-kun, eat up"_ ). Maybe... they could...

On second thought, Yuri realised, Victor probably ate the  _best_ pirozhki in all the land at the palace of Piter, so maybe not 'passable' pirozhki... the town itself though, and the temple... that might be nice...

The geode clock chimed once, hypnotically echoing.  _Go to sleep,_ _Yuri-can, long day tomorrow... you want to_ kiss _Victor again, not yawn in his face..._

With that thought burning Yuri's cheeks, he drained his milk, and went back to bed, shut his eyes -

\- And woke to something wet on his face. "Makka..." Yuri sleepily pushed Makkachin's furry face away, used to being rudely awoken by the poodle's kisses for the past few days. Makkachin's head was wet too though...  _smelt_ wet, not in a good way. Yuri opened his eyes...

"It's absolutely  _pouring_ outside," Victor complained, drying his hair with a spare towel, sitting cross-legged next to Yuri. Yuri just stared at him. Nonplussed, Victor smiled down at him, his hair still dripping messily over his face. "We can still go out though, if you have an umbre-ah!"

Yuri flung his arms round Victor's neck, nearly knocking Victor back as he hugged him.  _You came back... you came back!_ As if hearing him, Victor hugged Yuri back just as tightly, rubbing Yuri's back soothingly.

"O-Ohaiyo, Victor..." Yuri croaked out, his throat dry from the night.

Victor smiled into Yuri's shoulder, turned his head burrow closer, his nose nuzzling Yuri's pulse, making him shiver. "Dobroye utro, Yuri."

_Tadaima..._

_... Okaeri._

* * *

XXXIII

* * *

Odd. There was a knocking at the door... ah. Accompanied by a 'woof'. Christophe peeled his reading spectacles off and put his book down, and opened the door.

In nothing but some underpants and a robe, as was his unapologetic style.

Equally unapologetic, Victor took no notice whatsoever about his friend's state of dishabille, and neither did Makkachin, who bounded up eagerly asking to be greeted first. Christophe chuckled as he stroked the poodle's head quickly, and then silently moved out of Victor's way to let him in.

Just as he had forgotten to change, Victor completely forgot to say 'hello', flapping his hands excitedly as he waited impatiently for privacy. "I've got something to tell you!" Christophe closed the door and grunted as Victor launched himself in a happy embrace. " _Yuri!_ "

Christophe waited a second, expecting more of an explanation than that. He rather doubted that Victor had gotten confused and mistaken him for his... whatever the mysterious skater was to him. Victor might not have been confused but he was certainly beside himself; he finally backed off of Christophe, his entire face nothing but a heart-shape. "I-! He-! We-! Eeee!"

Christophe finally burst out laughing. Then, when Victor finally explained what had happened...

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOO!"

A few minutes later the head butler came himself to check if everything was alright, and Christophe lied smoothly saying that they'd had a breakthrough for one of their road-building projects (strictly speaking not a lie, they  _had_ had a breakthrough, but last week, and...)...

And that hadn't exactly warranted the bottle of champagne Christophe magicked from his drinks cabinet. "I've been saving this bottle," Christophe told Victor as he ripped the foil off the cork, "since you made me stay at the palace for the New Year party, so if it's turned to vinegar because it took you  _so long to make a move_ , it's your fault, mon cheri."

"You kept it for this?" Victor asked, astounded, settling on the couch in front of the fire, Makkachin swiftly jumping up next to him to lay across his lap.

His back to them, Christophe hesitated briefly before answering teasingly. "No, mon ami. But it really will turn to vinegar if we wait for  _that_ , so -" He poured the champagne masterfully into quickly-rinsed vodka tumblers, passed one to Victor - " _salut!_ " - and...

"Hmm."

The two stared at their glasses after a careful sip. Then Christophe looked up with a wink. "You didn't leave it too long after all, it's not bad."

As Victor laughed, Makkachin whimpered. ("No, Makka, for humans, not doggies!")

"So. Tell. Me.  _Everything_."

Victor did. He told his best friend about how Makkachin came back with Yuri's note, about how Yuri didn't give a damn about who he was. He told him about Yuri's choreography, about his skating, and how beautiful it was, how... how it  _called_ to him. About how he didn't even think when he flung himself at Yuri, and -

"You... tucked him into bed? That's... that's it?" Christophe blinked and then topped his glass up. "Well... whatever floats your boat, Victor..."

And Victor told him about going to Dazaifu together that day.

The previous night Victor had forced himself to go to sleep, and rose before dawn through sheer will power. He was the first down for breakfast, before Lilia even, who was always an early riser, and showed his face long enough for even Yurio to appear, yawning and still too sleepy to snap at his older brother's teasing kiss to his forehead and departing back. Victor had wanted to sleep a little on Makkachin's back as he flew to Kara, but then the rain came, a shock pour over Yandashsky that then seemed to follow them East as they crossed the Ribenhai. A good thing that he was wearing his rough coat, as he called it; it was better suited to the weather than anything the court tailor trussed him up in.

Victor had quietly let himself in the cottage - the door didn't have a lock, which Victor found a little odd, even in the peculiar bamboo grove - and... Stoked the kitchen fire. Put the kettle on. Washed up the glass that Yuri had left out the night before. Plated up the pastries he'd pinched from the breakfast table, thinking to treat Yuri. And ambled upstairs to the linen cupboard, having needed a spare towel plenty of times before over the rainy season.

He did knock before he went into Yuri's bedroom, even though the door was open, and even though Makkachin had gone in without such hesitation. Yuri didn't wake anyway, only murmured complainingly as Makkachin plopped straight down on the futon and started licking his face, much like he did to wake Victor most mornings, that very morning even. Yuri frowned cutely in his sleep as he pushed Makkachin's face away, earning licks to his hand too and finally opened his eyes.

Victor could get used to the sight of Yuri like this. Of being the last thing he saw at night and the first come morning.

It was however also like taking a step backwards; after Yuri's hug, that... that was about it. And whilst Victor mourned not getting any kisses first thing, he knew he didn't have much right to; he didn't move forward to claim them either. In the morning light, they were shy again, and it hung over them, waiting.

"Waiting for what?" Christophe asked gently, his head tilted. His glass was forgotten on the table, and he was lying spread across the rug like a cat, Victor slumped over the couch above him, still sipping his first glass.

Victor thought for a moment, took another sip. Then... "Yesterday felt like a dream when I woke up... I didn't want to put it to the test, I guess, and find that actually it really was a dream, and Yuri and I had never..." He trailed off, blushing. His friend grinned below at the sight, but not to tease; he hadn't ever seen Victor like this, hadn't heard Victor speak like this, of kisses and other sweet affections. Victor was well used to Christophe freely discussing his exploits, but they'd never been able to speak of Victor's; truly speaking, Victor had none. Then Christophe frowned; this step back wasn't the case any more, surely?

In answer, Victor smiled like the sun's initial crest out of the sea; a tiny thing, then glowing.

Victor would remember almost every moment of that first day spent together with Yuri for the rest of his life. He would remember the mundane, of worrying over whether the pastries were enough to spoil Yuri with, thinking of the choicest fish, light soup and rice he himself had been treated to with the Katsuki family in Hasetsu. He would remember moments like those because he'd spent them waiting for Yuri to return to his side. But he would also remember Yuri's eyes widening at the sight of said pastries as he came down, washed and dressed, and the shy thanks Yuri gave him. He'd remember Yuri escape the scrutiny of being watched eating breakfast by recommending that Victor change into Katsukan garb, into a kimono-hakama set that he hoped would fit, and the burning blush all over Yuri's face as he helped Victor adjust it all.

 _"It's been a while since I wore hakama like this_ _,"_ Victor could finally tell him. He hesitated, and then told Yuri about visits to the Katsuki clan, told him how much he loved the Katsuki family like they were family. Yuri forgot to be shy then, awed that Victor had met his clan leaders, asked for more details about them, and smiled and laughed as Victor told him how Lady Mari was easily the strongest woman he knew, how she used to tease him as a child, and how much he looked up to her. Victor told him about how, after his mother was buried, he spent a few months with the Katsuki's, and Lady Katsuki cooked for him... he'd forgotten what it was called, but it was very simple, lots of rice and meat.

 _"Lady Katsuki cooks?"_ Yuri asked, surprised. Victor blinked; it had never really occurred to him that maybe that would be strange. He would have to ask her about it next he saw her.

He forgot to ask Lady Katsuki about her culinary skills, but he never forgot this;

_"How is it that I've never taken you flying with Makkachin before?"_

Yuri had paled - a rare reaction for him - and stared at the freshly grown Makkachin. Who stared back, panting innocently. Like he  _knew_. _"Ē to..."_

It's really not like Yuri could say he was scared of flying, but Victor saw right through him, heard what Yuri was being tight-lipped about as he hesitated. Though... how would Yuri know that he didn't like flying? He'd certainly never flown before - what a mad world it would be where people could  _fly_ to places of their choosing! - but that certainly didn't mean that it was an attractive offer. It was akin to... throwing yourself off a cliff or something on a rope... ugh...

In any case, Victor  _had_ offered to take Yuri out before with Makkachin, and Yuri had come up with... well, not exactly excuses, but...

_"No, it's alright..."_

_"I'm going to sleep."_

One time Yuri even shut the door in Victor's face without a word. Victor had eventually gotten the hint.

On this occasion however... Yuri hadn't exactly objected the day before to going somewhere. Surely it didn't need saying that Victor had intended to fly there with Makkachin? How else were they to get out of Kara easily? But... Yuri's brain had also been reduced to the consistency of miso paste by kisses. It really hadn't occurred to him that he was going to have to...

Victor had smiled softly and slid off Makkachin's back, and gently put his hand on Yuri's shoulder. The younger man started nervously, and just as quickly calmed as he remembered; it was  _Victor_. _"Yuri, we don't have to go, if you don't want to..."_

Yuri's face fell, and he glanced again at Makkachin anxiously. The giant poodle tilted his big head and whimpered softly, then nuzzled Yuri's face with his nose, silently encouraging. Yuri instinctively smiled at the offered comfort, and steeled himself. _"No, I... I-I want to... I want to t-try..."_ And he stepped forward determinedly.

Yuri had shrieked aloud in a panic when Makkachin bent his knees to lift off, throwing himself forward into Makkachin's furry neck. Behind him, reminded of  _everyone's_ reactions when he took them flying for the first time - Yurio had screamed, Christophe had let out the longest stream of curse words Victor had ever heard from anyone in any language, and Mari had looked like she was about to vomit - Victor failed to hold back his laughter. He'd flung himself forward too to wrap his arms round Yuri as the younger man started to wriggle off in angry protest, apologising as genuinely as he could through his giggles. They hadn't even lifted off the ground yet.

 _"H-How did you... how did you get through the first time?"_ Yuri asked, shaking in Victor's arms, his words muffled by Makkachin's fur. Makkachin whimpered with worry; the poodle had found the others' reactions funny too at the time, had teased them all a little, but not so much Yuri.

 _"Hmm..."_ Victor thought back to the first time he'd flown with Makkachin. It... it was  _that_ night, after the stables... _"This will sound ridiculous, but I didn't actually notice."_

Yuri was silent and still for a long moment. Then he lifted his head from Makkachin's neck and gawped at Victor. _"_ Huh _?!"_

Victor smiled as best he could. It was either smile... or grimace. _"I... I was a little out of it at the time. I was on Makkachin's back, with my head buried in his fur, much like you just did now, and then I realised how windy it was, and cold, and when I looked up, there we both were in the sky. And..."_ The smile purified. _"It... it was incredible..."_

When Yuri smiled hesitantly at Victor's awe, Victor tightened his arms around Yuri in a hug. _"Would that be easier for you? If you didn't look?"_  Yuri frowned. Discouraged, Victor stroked his forearms comfortingly. _"I mean it, we don't have to if -"_

_"I want to go to Dazaifu with you."_

This was one of the things that Victor loved about Yuri; that moment when his determination made him forget everything. He loved how bright Yuri's eyes were, how fierce... like if you gave him a sword, or really any tool, he would go forth and quell any enemy, be it an army or an accounts book or a lump of dough that needed kneading. Like Yuri could do anything, now that he had put his mind to it, and what a formidable mind it was.

It made it a little uncomfortable sitting behind him. Victor ignored that sparkling feeling in his core and nuzzled affectionately into Yuri's shoulder. "I want to go to Dazaifu with you too."

_That's exactly what I like about you, Yuri. You never let me underestimate you. And nor should I._

Yuri still whimpered into Makkachin's fur when they finally lifted off, and refused to look until they were finally flying over Dazaifu. He'd gripped Makkachin's fur exactly where Victor showed him Makkachin didn't mind with one hand, and held on to Victor's hand for dear life. When he did look up...

 _"We picked the wrong day to come,"_ Victor pointed out forlornly.

"It poured it down all day," Victor moaned from the comfort of the warmth, Christophe chuckling on the rug, the fire crackling a few feet away. "We could barely see a  _thing_. Makkachin brought us down near the harbour, in an alleyway so no one would see us. We'd both worn cloaks, but they were  _soaked_ through, so Yuri's umbrella didn't really make any difference -"

"Don't Katsukans have a thing about sharing umbrellas?" Christophe wondered aloud, not caring much for interrupting. He winked up at Victor. "Sounds cosy, at least. You were sharing, right? You did at least think _that bit_ through?"

Victor chuckled. "Yuri said he only had the one..."

Christophe burst out laughing, grinning proudly. " _Of course_ he did. At least one of you thought of that." He clamped down on a melancholy thought;  _I never got to share an umbrella with Mass_...

Victor chuckled again, unaware but nevertheless steering Christophe from his thoughts. "I'm not sure that was intentional either, Chris. Anyway... we wandered around the docks for a bit, in the rain - it was so heavy you couldn't see the Urajio lighthouse, they'd suspended traffic over the river until it had lessened off - and then we just gave up and went and found an izakaya."

Christophe frowned on the floor as he tried to remember his Katsukan lessons. Then he burst out laughing. "You... you went to the pub?!"

Victor laughed with him. "Well, of course! Where else were we going to go on a day like this? They had a horikotatsu -"

"A what?"

"It's... a heater under the table, I guess." Victor shook his head, trying to stay focused, and returned to the subject at hand. "Anyway - they let Makkachin in, they were really nice, they made really nice gyoza -  _anyway_... we didn't stay there all day, it wasn't like that, we just ate a bit and had a little bit of sake - don't look at me like that, we shared one bottle! - and dried our clothes, and then..."

Then they went to Shishin-ji.

If there was one thing that would ensure that the clan-lands remained separated, not only from each other but from the Imperial hold, it was religion. For the most part, in the North the religion that most people would identify with deified a singular God, which prescribed a code of living, was the basis of an epistemology, and was historically heavily entwined with varying political forces. For instance in the Giacometti lands, a particularly strict strand of this religion - Kirism - held enormous sway with Christophe's parents. At varying times in the Feltsman clan history Kirism had had more influence, but for Lord Yakov, he believed that how one worshiped God was a private business; not something that he wanted anyone to interfere with, for both his sake and anyone else's, and he held Kirist priests at arm's length from the court.

In the South and East, the majority religion was very different in that there was no majority; there were hundreds of gods, all holding dominion over a multitude of things. Individuals were more or less free to feel their affiliations with various gods, and encouraged to pay their sincere respects to ensure a prosperous existence. Underlying all of these gods, all of which had extraordinary origins and stories, lay an ethical code that the gods themselves were said to aspire to;  _respect the will of others, whilst believing in your own_. This foundation had dozens of interpretations credited to various different philosophers, passed down through oral stories and eventually scrolls, and subsequently meant that of all the lands, the Katsukan territory was one of the few where religions could co-exist side by side; to interfere with the will of others, or to impose your will on others was abhorrent, and that applied to gods too.

The Three Grand Prix Fairies had never bothered to teach Yuri much about religion because, to their vague and long-lasting amusement,  _all_ religions hadn't quite managed to truly understand what had created them, and everything like them that was beyond our world. But they never told Yuri much about the Beyond, so he had been left to delve into religion through the vast amount of literature Plisetsky-san had in his shop, and through what Minako-sensei taught him in school.

Which meant that Yuri could tell Victor all about Shishin-ji, and the gods the temple was built for.

"They're the elemental gods," Victor explained to Christophe. Christophe wasn't himself interested, and allowed himself to tune out a little, but Victor... Victor had partly been fascinated because Yuri had been, but also... it was interesting. To him at least. "Fire, Water, Air, Earth... the gods  _Kasai_ , _Mizu_ , _Kūki_ , _Chikyū_... did you know that in Dazaifu they don't think the gods even look human? They're just their elements, or if they take form they take the form of animals affiliated with them. So  _Mizu_ is always a fish or an otter,  _Kasai_ is always a dragon..."

"Hmm..."

"The temple's extraordinary... there's a torch that they keep permanently alight for  _Kasai_ , and a garden and stream for  _Chikyū_  and  _Mizu_ , and almost the entire place is open for  _Kūki_... you should see it, Chris, it's beautiful." This time his friend didn't bother to respond, but out of deference, not because he was ignoring him. On the contrary; Christophe was listening to Victor's awe. "You go and offer incense to each god, asking for their wisdom, and they each represent different... aspects, I guess.  _Kasai_ is passionate, energetic, whilst  _Mizu_ is meant to be strong, enduring,  _Kūki_ 's flexible and  _Chikyū_ is centred... but they're all a little mixed up too, Yuri was telling me all these myths... everyone knows different stories, believes different things. But ultimately you go there and give thanks for the world being the world, and being made of the same things too."

Victor turned on lie on his side across the couch, fitting around his sleeping dog, to look down properly at his friend on the rug. "We... talked. About what we are to each other. We found a quiet spot in the garden, in a grotto, watched the rain for a bit." Victor smiled across at the poodle at his feet. "Makkachin had to wait for us outside the temple though, some children kept him company."

Christophe smiled, picturing it. An impressive temple, the wood darkened by the rain, and within surrounded by greenery and incense and the echoing drops of the rain into a pond, two young men sat side-by-side in Katsukan wear, one at home in it and other, taller and silver-haired, an obvious foreigner.

Christophe wondered how romanticised his mind's version was. He imagined glances around to make sure no one was looking before stealing kisses. He imagined hand-holding. He imagined all the things he had never gotten to do with Masumi outside of their stolen moments at night in his chambers... and hoped that Victor might have finally found someone to steal such moments for.

* * *

XXXIV

* * *

What Christophe imagined wasn't enormously far from fact.

The pond was a stream, so the scene was not as quiet as Christophe imagined, and less green from where slate tiles had tried to tame nature back into obedience, only for moss to grow over instead. The incense was only inside the temple hall, not the gardens, but the smell was undeniable, wafting out even as the rain tried to rinse the air of it.

But there was no hand-holding, or bodies that fit together snugly without a care. What Christophe  _could_ imagine was more than what Yuri could imagine, let alone perform... and Yuri would never be so sacrilegious as to steal kisses from anyone in a temple. But they did sit together on a stone bench, hidden away in a grotto in the garden, a respectful gap between them, and Yuri was mindful of what people might have thought to look at them. In Dazaifu it was not uncommon, he had noted, for Katsukan men to deal with Feltsman visitors, to be friendly even. In the two decades of peace between the two territories, Dazaifu and Urajio were practically two halves of the same city; there was something freeing in knowing that he and Victor didn't look all that strange sat together.

Yuri envied that Victor seemed not to think too much of what others thought that day. He would always remember how  _light_ Victor seemed, how he stared out in wonder at the temple grounds, seeing only beauty. Yuri would always remember how beautiful  _Victor_ looked, in that grotto looking out on to a world that paled in comparison, despite its very best efforts there in the temple gardens.

Even though it had been damp and cold... it had been a wonderful day. Somehow it was exactly what Yuri had expected in some ways, not at all in others, and even better; he had expected to be terrified when Makkachin brought them over Dazaifu, landing softly and shrinking quickly to turn and lick at Yuri's gaunt face in apology for his ordeal. It was awkward when Yuri stubbornly pulled himself to his feel, caught momentarily off-guard by Victor holding up the umbrella, and feeling unsteady on his feet as they walked to the dock. In his head, Yuri had imagined a sunny day, better than the last time he went to Dazaifu, so they could admire the ships and river strait, but the rain had made it impossible. Victor had tugged him away with equal stubbornness when Yuri sneezed, and dragged him to the nearest izakaya and -

 _"We must look_ awful _... like rats off a shipwreck,"_ Victor commented as he peeled off his cloak and gave it to the host to hang by the fire to dry.

Yuri couldn't help it; he had started laughing at the absurdity of it. It only took a second for Victor to join him, and they both laughed harder as Makkachin further broke the ice by shaking out his damp fur. Better to laugh than to be grumpy that they were both cold and soaked, and instead to bask in the warmth of the constant movement and noise around them in the izakaya.

It had been so... _easy_ after. They ordered a bottle of warm sake, and beers made at a local brewery up river. The host brought them kushiyaki, gyoza, karaage, goma-ae -  _"vkusno!"_ \- and they warmed the cold and damp out of their limbs under the kotatsu, both of them reaching out every now and then to stop Makkachin from burrowing under the table to burn himself on the heater.

Victor told him about rainy days in Piter and at L'École, finally free to not spare the detail of exactly where he had been, what his upbringing had really been made of. He spoke of the gardens in Piter, full of hardy flowers that could withstand the winter to bloom proudly yet again come the spring, and of the private garden Lady Lilia had that she filled with colour one would not expect of the austere woman.

("Papa lets he do what she likes in there, he doesn't particularly care for flowers," Victor confided with a wink. Yuri had to remind himself that 'Papa' was the great Lord Yakov Feltsman... and marvel not for the first time, that he'd managed to produce a beauty of Victor's sensitivity. But then, it should be noted that to Yuri's mind, who had never seen Lord Yakov or even portraits of him, Lord Feltsman was a giant of a man, a crusher of men, a man who could kill with a glare.

He wouldn't have been all that far off... but Yuri wasn't the only one to marvel that Victor was Yakov's son. The father did that too.)

Yuri remained quiet, happy to listen to Victor and without much of an idea of what to fill the silence with himself. But as Victor ran out of stories of 'helping' (watching) his younger brother try to sneak into the garden he'd been banned from for not being careful, the silence that filled the gap between them was... potent.

Yuri had so many questions... but he couldn't get them to the edge of his tongue to say. His eyes fell to Victor's hand on the bench between them, and thought...  _if I take my hand out of my lap I could... I could..._ but he didn't. They were in a  _temple_ , after all. Even a spouse taking their partner's hand would be improprietous.

"Yuri?"

Yuri's fingers, which hadn't been paying attention to his doubts, froze just as they lifted off of his thighs. "H-Hai...?"

"What do you want me to be to you?"

Yuri's eyes widened. What a question...

Yuri had been thinking about this for months.  _Of course_ he had. He was eighteen years old - nearly nineteen - and... Victor was the first person he'd ever kissed like that. He was the first person he had  _wanted_ to kiss; growing up, he'd been attracted to varying people, but had been thoroughly confused by the feelings those people inspired. He had wanted to spend all of his time at school with Yuuko as a child, but seeing her with Takeshi had opened his eyes to the naivety of such a feeling; he hadn't wanted to kiss her like Takeshi did, didn't want to make her his wife and have children with her. There had been a couple of boys who Yuri could never quite look away from, but had always been too shy to approach and be friends with, let alone anything else. Then Victor had appeared on the ice when he was thirteen, and he understood what beauty was to him; pale, slim, and  _male_.

Reader; think back. How did you learn about desire? From watching others, did you not? Well, how do you learn the  _form_ of desire without such references? Yuri had his fairy guardians, sexless as they were, the inhabitants of the town of Kara, and... books. Yuri had a much better idea of romance from literature than from observing those around him. But the stories in Plisetsky's shop were of men and women, of husbands and wives, or lovers stealing in to various consequence. There were stories about young men desiring other young men, but Yuri was far from stupid; he knew why such stories didn't exist in that bookshop, why everyone asked him whether he had any interest in any particular young  _women_ in Kara to be his bride.

Victor couldn't be his bride. Yuri didn't let him think that very often, but when he did... the disappointment it inspired was deeply unnerving. For what was a wife, after all? A companion for life, to build a home with, to take care of and be taken care of by.

What he would give... but for the life of him, Yuri would never have the nerve to ask Victor that.

It would be impossible, after all...

Beside him, Victor sat deathly still, with only his fingers twitching nervously, avoiding meeting Yuri's shocked expression. When the awkward silence became too much - what could Yuri  _say_?! - Victor shrank into himself. "Do...do you want us to just be... friends?"

Yuri's heart clenched.  _Oh Gods, no!_ "N-No..." He managed to gasp out.  _Please... I don't want us to go backwards... I don't know what forwards is, but... just not back..._

Victor let out the breath he'd been holding and seemed a brighten again, encouraged by that at least. "Then... your... your l-lover, I... I guess?"

_I... what is a... a..._

Discouraged by Yuri's continued silence, Victor deflated. "I... I'll try my best -"

 _No-no-no-no-no!_ Yuri finally let go of his own held breath and stopped holding back, within and without.  _I want you... I want you, I want you, I want you - SAY IT!_

"I want you to be yourself!"

Victor's eyes widened and he finally turned to stare at Yuri, face open and vulnerable. Yuri finally steeled himself and put his hand over Victor's on the bench, no longer caring anymore who saw and disapproved -  _it's not_ _their business!_ \- and tried to order his thoughts so he could speak...

_I want you by my side always. I want to hold on you. I... I... I want to know what it is for you to be my l-lover... what it is to be yours..._

_How do I tell him this...?_ "I..."  _Why is this_ so _hard?!_

Panic began to rise in his gut - oh. Victor's fingers tightened around his.  _Go on_ , Victor said with a gentle smile. Yuri smiled back in thanks, and started forward.

"I... I've never done this before," Yuri admitted quietly. "I don't... I don't know what I'm meant to say... I don't know what it's like to be... well, anything to anyone." He nervously met Victor's astonished eyes. "Have... have you? Been...?" Shyness clamped him up again, but Victor shook his head, understanding, looking equally shy. He couldn't even say 'no'. "Ah... so ka... then..." He threaded his fingers through Victor's, trying not to be frightened that Victor would pull his hand away... but he didn't; Victor curled his fingers over Yuri's in return, and Yuri couldn't help but smile when Victor did. "I... I'd like to... I'd like to find out. I mean... I want to find out what it is for you to be my... my l-l-lover..." Yuri flinched at how terrible his stammer was, but Victor's smile was growing, so he pressed on to the end. "I want to find out what it is for me to be yours... can... can we find out together?"

"Da."

Yuri started at Victor's lightening quick response, and then smiled with all he had.  _Oh Victor... how long have I kept you waiting to say that?_

Victor smiled back, leant forward a little until their foreheads nearly touched; as close as he could get in their surroundings. "Hai.  _Yes_. That's exactly what I want too."

Yuri smiled and leant the rest of the way, his brow brushing Victor's. "Ah, so..." And then whispered in the Katsukan tongue, closing his eyes in relief. " _Yokatta..._ "

"Yuri?"

Yuri opened his eyes, went cross-eyed in Victor's blues. "Hmm?"

"Can we get out of this temple? I..." And he whispered the rest in Yuri's ear.

Yuri whimpered, nodded eagerly, and reluctantly let go of Victor's hand to walk through the hallowed hallways to the exit where Makkachin eagerly met them.

It wasn't exactly romantic finding the nearest alley way to pull Victor into, but Yuri had read about it at least. Not that mattered at all when finally -  _finally_ \- Victor crowded him into the wall and kissed him like they had both wanted to all day.

_I'm sorry, Victor, that it took so long for us to get here. I didn't want you to see my shortcomings... but you kept coming back to me. Arigatō..._

Yuri wrapped his arms round Victor's neck, moaned contentedly as Victor wrapped his round Yuri's back, and smiled into their kiss when Victor moaned back in kind. _Oh God... this feels so wonderful... don't ever stop..._

 _Victor..._   _now that we are here... I don't want to be afraid anymore. Not of opening up, and letting you in._

Victor's lips broke with Yuri's with a gasp for breath, and as they both tried to catch oxygen back into their lungs they stayed nose-to-nose, until Victor grinned and giggled, dropping his head onto Yuri's shoulder, burrowing into his neck. Yuri gave a happy hum and then frowned, tried to tug Victor in closer as he realised the alcove they were huddled under wasn't quite big enough to shelter Victor's back, rain falling on Yuri's hands when the breeze picked up. Yuri gave a gasp as Victor kissed his neck in thanks and burrowed his face into Victor's neck too, feasting on Victor's clean scent and the warmth of his body that he shared. 

_Until now, I thought I was fighting all by myself. But now that you're here... that's totally changed. I'm sure that some things will still be the same, and others will change. Everything's going to feel so new... if I lose this, I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to how things were before, but now... I can see clearly what's right in front of me._

_I probably only have a short window of time... I don't know how long Victor will be able to keep coming to me. The odds are stacked against us, who knows what might get in our way. So please, Kamisama... give me Victor's time..._

_As much of it as you can. Not just for now, but... for always..._

_Kasai, Mizu, Kūki, Chikyū... arigatōgozaimashita. I've been helped by many people - Phichit, Guang Hong, Leo, Mariko, Minako-sensei, Yuuko and Takeshi - in living a good life thus far, but I've never had to think about love until... until now. I've been blessed by their support; I hope they all know how grateful I am to them. Even so, I always felt like I was fighting alone, struggling to connect with everything._

Victor kissed up Yuri's neck, across his cheek, and Yuri turned to meet him, impatient for his lips on his own, all of the awkwardness of their first kisses gone with want and practice. 

_But since Victor crashed into my life... everything seems different._

Yuri ran out of breath again, and let his head fall on to Victor's shoulder, tucked in under his chin and sighed as Victor held him, and held Victor in return. He'd never felt so safe. He felt like he belonged there.

 _I love him. I love Victor. I'm still learning what this 'love' that I feel for him is, but... I do. It's so different from everything else I have ever felt for anyone or anything... I know it. I finally realise why this matters so much to_ _those who feel like this, all those people back home who love their spouses, their children, the ones they ought not to but do anyway... I understand why they work so hard to keep it, and why it feels so wrong when they don't fight hard enough for it, when they take it for granted._

_Victor... I'm sure I'll make so many mistakes, but please may taking you and my love for you - and your love for me - for granted not be one of them. I want to hold on to you with everything I've got..._

_So please... fight with me. Fight with me so that we can always stay together like this, even in this unrelenting rain._

Meanwhile, as Victor nuzzled at Yuri's cheek to tempt him out again for another kiss, which Yuri accepted gladly, this was what went through Victor's head:

_"Da... da... da..."_

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Comments are writing-food!  
> x


	16. XXXV-XXXVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY finished this chapter...
> 
> I finished it off TODAY, so the editing's been done at a rush, but I don't want to spend another week on it, I want to crack on.
> 
> It might interest you to know that it was finished sitting next to a snoring golden retriever. She's very distracting, so we'll blame her. Even though she's such a gooooood girl :-D
> 
> Also... I have art! The fantastic 'Dude' has very sweetly made me this:
> 
> http://simplyharr.tumblr.com/post/180257574382/scene-from-the-latest-chapter-of
> 
> How cute is that?!?!
> 
> In other news: moved again, takes only half an hour to get to work now, there's a dog, excellent food, and a lot less stress involved. In the run up to Christmas, things are actually pretty okay :-)
> 
> Now... enjoy!

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Yuri could deal with everything else. But not having cold feet.

And not being alone.

* * *

XXXV

* * *

A shift began.

It was not a smooth shift, by any means. There would be many key points along the way, but the first would not be witnessed by Yuri or Victor.

The first thing that happened was that a window was broken. But we'll come back to that.

Before the broken window, Victor stepped up his visits to Yuri again until they saw each other nearly every evening. It became the joke that no one in the palace of Piter - not even Yurio - wanted to say out loud, that Victor would rush through his dinner at a speed that was almost rude, and then no one would see him for the rest of the night.

"He's out walking Makkachin!" Christophe would always say. If it was to Lord Yakov or Lady Lilia, this was said respectfully, that knowing look shared. With Yurio however it was with a teasing smirk, because Christophe could never take the tumultuous boy seriously.

"Is that meant to be some kind of euphemism?" Yurio had retorted sardonically, one blond eyebrow rising in a perfectly judged arch. Christophe had blinked at him and then burst out laughing, genuinely amused for once by the young lord's wit. He'd been dying to tease him and say that maybe it was, but that would have been edging a little too close to what no one was prepared to say amongst the family.

Outside the family... well, everyone had eventually learnt to be more careful stirring up foul rumours, because -

"Come on then!  _W_ _ho_ exactly is this mysterious mistress, you gossipy old _hag_!"

Needless to say, no one who valued their place in court said anything in front of Lord Yurio, or his parents. They should have been more careful though, as Christophe was very good at quietly over-hearing things.

"Is Papa angry with me?" Victor once wondered aloud, his head hanging with guilt. He had never wanted to make trouble for his father, but... he was too selfish to let Yuri go.

Christophe had had to think carefully about the answer. Then he had to admit, "I'm not actually sure, Victor."

Elsewhere in the palace, in the grand-master bedroom, Lord Yakov grumbled in his favourite armchair by the fire, half talking to the flames and half to his wife, who was sat up reading in bed and equally only half listening to him. "What am I going to do with that boy...?" Yakov asked aloud, following the question with a sip of his drink.

Lady Lilia's eyes raised like the head of hawk smelling prey on the wind, lowered her book as if spreading wings. "Yakov. Do you remember what you said about Victor when you first brought him to my ice rink?"

Startled by the seemingly odd question, Lord Yakov twisted in his chair to give Lilia his thoroughly deserved attention. He couldn't, in fact, not off the top of his head. It seemed like so very long ago when he brought his tiny son to the ice rink of the Baranovskayas, after his wife had died and he was worried that his son wasn't handling her loss very well, so quick to shouting at his governess (it would be years until he found out why, as the governess was hardly going to admit to slandering his deceased wife, and Victor had stubbornly not said anything at all).

Yakov  _did_ remember that when he brought his son to the Baranovskayas, Lilia had grabbed Victor, wrenched his jaw open to inspect his teeth, and yanked his leg up as high as he could stretch and remarked,  _"physically, he's - hmm"_. She put his leg down and gave no further critique. Then, without so much as a curtsey or any other curtesy, she said;

_"Your boy's a figure skater."_

Yet again, Yakov was glad that his father was long since dead as no doubt he'd be turning in his grave. All of the Feltsman family were taught to ice skate - it was the fashionable pastime, and in their youths they had all been speed skaters, expected to show their prowess by being the fastest on the ice - but  _none_ had been _dancers_ upon the ice. Yakov had opened his mouth to protest, but his little Vitya got there first.

_"Figure...? What's that?"_

And so Mistress Baranovskaya yanked Victor's shoes off without ceremony, laced up skates that were actually too small for him, and led him on to the ice and showed him.

Lord Yakov Feltsman slowly fell in love with the daughter of an ice rink owner, an instructor in her own right, over her arabesque, her triple lutz jump, her Ina Bauer, and her Biellman spin. It's somewhat surprising that Lord Vladimir Feltsman never rose from the dead to spite all the things he would have taken offence to.

"You told me that, above all else, you wanted your son to be happy with whatever he did," Lady Lilia said, her tone cutting, disapproving of her husband for forgetting. "You said that as long as he was happy, you didn't care what anyone said. Were those empty words, Yakov?"

Something cold settled inside Yakov's stomach. He had held that same sentiment for others too... for himself even. "No, they weren't."

Lady Lilia studied her husband for a moment, and then lifted her book back up. "Then what are you going to do with Vitya, Yakov?"

Nothing, it would seem, for the time being at least. Lord Yakov did as he had always done since Victor was sixteen; he tried to be patient, and waited for his son to come to him. Yakov never wanted his boy to look at him as Victor had when he had yelled at him in exasperation because he had fallen in despair over something - or someone - that to this day, Yakov still didn't know about.

He never wanted Vitya to be afraid of him... like he had been afraid of Vladimir.

And so things continued as they had done for years; those that didn't really care gossiped, and those that did kept a weather eye out of Victor's well-being... and couldn't help but sigh a little with relief as he so obviously brightened. Wherever he went, and whoever he went to... it couldn't be denied that they made Victor happy.

And yes, Yuri did.

Just as Victor rushed through his dinner, waiting for the moment when he could be feasibly excused, Yuri too waited eagerly for Plisetsky-san to excuse him for the night at the bookshop. He would almost jog home, make his own dinner, and dash up from the table as he heard Makkachin sweeping in so that he could greet Victor with an embrace. Their first kiss of the evening would always be outside of the cottage, at whichever point on the path they managed to meet, uncaring of the clashing flavours of their meals still lingering on their lips.

Since their day in Dazaifu, both Yuri and Victor had stopped holding back on their affections. Yuri would spend all day feeling a little nervous about seeing his lover, and then the moment that Victor would actually arrive he'd forget about all his anxieties and race into Victor's arms. Then he'd shyly take Victor's hand and lead him inside, where Victor would shove him back down into his chair to finish his dinner, make himself at home by putting on tea for them both, and tell Yuri all about his day or listen to Yuri tell him about his.

Victor would help Yuri wash up. It had made Yuri's cheeks burn the first time Victor had offered to help in the kitchen, months ago in the summer when Yuri had first brought him into his home, and now... now it felt normal. Yuri had even taught Victor how to cook rice, as Victor had been so curious, watching Yuri wash the grains first before pouring out the exact amount of water, though an occasion when Victor had to do it himself had yet to arise.

After everything was finished, Victor would always lean in for another kiss, starting soft and sweet. If they had discipline that day they'd eventually pull apart, fetch their skates, and go to the lake to practice, rewarding themselves by eventually sitting side by side at the edge to kiss some more when they were either too impatient or too tired (usually the former) to wait any longer. If they had no discipline... they usually ended up on the couch.

Which would actually be where things normally became a little awkward.

It was the angle. It was awkward trying to sit next to each other on the couch and twist to face each other without... without getting closer than they were yet brave enough to try. It was tricky, trying to get as close as they had been before - both of them remembered with great fondness being so close in that alleyway in Dazaifu, chest-to-chest and wrapped around each other. Trying to replicate that on the couch without also being belly-to-belly or - heaven forbid! - anything lower-to-anything lower was... frustrating.

Equally frustrating was how riled up Victor would make Yuri sometimes, how hot and unsettled his every limb could become, itching for... he wasn't even sure what. A lie, of course; Yuri knew perfectly well that Victor's touch would soothe every nerve that was firing... but it was also far too overwhelming. For Victor too; sometimes mid-kiss he'd suddenly break away, flushed and half-panicked, and ask Yuri to wait, gasping for his breath back. He never left Yuri's side though; Victor would take Yuri's hands, distractedly lace and un-lace and lace again their fingers together, either forehead-to-forehead or he'd nestle into Yuri's shoulder. Yuri started doing the same.

They would talk, about nothing of much substance, in particular saying nothing of why they were pausing. Then they'd reach back in for more, and start the cycle all over again.

Victor couldn't always go to Yuri; a meeting about his projects or at court with his father would over-run, and it would get too late. But Victor hated -  _hated_ \- the thought of Yuri waiting for him, like he had for that long month apart... so he would ask Makkachin to take a message for him in his stead. Every time.

Victor tried his hardest to tell Yuri when he wouldn't be able to come in advance, so Yuri knew not to wait for him. Those days Victor would spend all day thinking of what to write in his absence; Makkachin always seemed to be able to guess when Victor was writing to Yuri, as he'd whimper at first, realising that Victor would miss seeing Yuri that night, and then he'd get excited because at least  _he_ would see Yuri.

As much as Yuri would rather have Victor himself, he did love Victor's letters. He had heard of others in Kara using letters to woo, writing ridiculous lines of poetry dedicated to beauty and not much else, so he'd been pleasantly surprised when Victor seemed to just put his mind to paper instead.

 _Yuri,  
_ _I'm so sorry I can't be there tonight, my darling. I wish I had a decent excuse for you - though what could truly excuse not seeing you? - but I'm afraid I have a terrible one: Sir Pompous-Fart (actually Sir Besarionis, but he really is pompous and farts like a tuba. One of brother Yurio's better nicknames) has requested a meeting to..._

As much as it made Yuri ache to read it, half-heartedly stroking Makkachin as he did, it also made him laugh. It was like Victor was right there with him anyway, sitting across the table; Yuri could even imagine the hand gestures he'd make, how he would groan and slump in his chair in complaint at his boredom in the meeting. All of Victor's letters were like that, were not all too far away from what he would have actually said had he been there.

 _Yuri, my dearest,  
_ _When I come to you tomorrow - and I am coming, I refuse to wait another day! I miss you, my Yuri - can you teach me how to make miso soup? Lady Katsuki gifted us some miso paste, and the cooks don't know what to do with it before it wastes; a little too proud to ask for advice from the Katsukan party before they left. I'm not sure how I'll convincingly tell them, but I'll think of something._

Once Victor couldn't refuse a last minute engagement, and when he realised, his heart twisting in his chest, that it would have to be more than one night of not seeing each other, he sent Makkachin with a quick note.

 _I envy my Makka so much._  
_He's had dinner; don't be conned by his puppy eyes!_  
_We both miss you so much; he's been fussing all day. Can Makkachin stay with you tonight? Just because I can't come to you - it's a long story, I'll tell you all about it in the morning, I'm so glad the week is finally over - doesn't mean Makkachin should have to miss you too._  
_Your Victor_

Yuri did cave to the puppy eyes, let Makkachin lick his plate clean, and spooned the poodle as he went to sleep, trying not to freak himself out when he thought that he would rather be curling around Victor. In the early morning he didn't even notice Makkachin slipping out his hold, and he woke to a cup of tea he hadn't made sitting next to him, and found Victor dozing on the couch with Makkachin asleep again next to him. Yuri had been reluctant to wake him, but... it felt too strange to watch Victor sleep, and besides... Yuri missed Victor for his smiles, for his laughter, for his enthusiasm and passion as he talked about anything and everything, and, of course, for his kisses.

"Victor..." Yuri sat next to him and rested his hand on Victor's shoulder, rousing him gently. "Ohaiyo."

Victor had groaned complainingly at first, then when he opened his eyes the groans ceased. Yuri gave a startled cry as Victor wrapped his arms round him like a trap shutting, but in the next instant was holding on just as tightly, rubbing Victor's shoulders soothingly. "Yuri, I'm so sorry..."

"Shhh..." Yuri smiled against Victor's neck. "You sent me poodle cuddles; you're more than forgiven." He pulled back, lifted Victor's face up, and frowned. "You look so tired..."

Victor's eyes dropped, nearly fluttering shut, and he nodded reluctantly. "Remember I told you about General Tupin? We had to arrest him yesterday, he was planning to vandalise the hospital..." Victor let his weight become dead, happy for Yuri to cradle his face so he didn't have to lift it himself. "Papa was furious... it was a long night, trying to speak to all the right people; Tupin's a rat but he has friends in the court still, and..."  _I'm furious that his petulance cost me seeing Yuri last night_...

Yuri shushed Victor again. "Don't worry about that now. How much sleep did you get?"

Victor shrugged. "A couple of hours...? Makka came back and picked me up, I slept a little on the way."

Yuri frowned, and turned to the poodle, who instantly woke at the mention of his name. "Makkachin! You should have let Victor sleep -!"

Victor shook his head, nuzzled into Yuri's palm again, put a hand over his confused and whimpering poodle. "No, don't chastise him... Makkachin did exactly what I wanted him to; he brought me here as soon as he could."  _Yuri, I'd rather see you a few more hours than sleep._

Still, Yuri wasn't pleased. "You shouldn't have... I mean..." He stopped.  _It's not his fault... he doesn't know._

Victor frowned, took Yuri's hand from his cheek. "Yuri? Is everything alright?" He swallowed guiltily. "I... I really am sorry that I couldn't -"

"It's..." Yuri trailed off, his interruption succeeding only in silencing Victor from his apology. "It's nothing." He shook his head.  _Stop thinking about it_. Telling himself this of course would never work, but he tried anyway. His affectionate smile was genuine however. "I know you were needed. It sounds like you had a lot to handle." He adjusted Victor's hand in both of his. "Would it... would it be strange of me to say that I... I'm actually..."  _Is it the right word?_

Victor frowned, not following Yuri's trail at all. "Yuri -"

"Proud."

That woke Victor up. He stared at Yuri, astonished. "Pro- what?"

Yuri nodded, his expression soft and loving. "Hmm. I'm really proud of you, of all the work that you do." He blushed and looked away shyly. "I... I've read so many history books... do you know how many lords and princes were utterly useless, doing nothing but squandering their privilege? History is littered with them. But you're  _nothing_ like them.  _Of course_ I'm proud of you."

When Yuri looked back up to Victor it was with alarm; Victor's eyes were watering. Realising, as Yuri's hands panickedly raised as though he'd broken something, Victor groaned with a bashful smile and tilted his head back to stem his tears, catching the runaways. " _Ooooh... Yuuuuuuri!_ You... you can't say things like that when I'm this tired!" He followed it with an awkward hiccough of a laugh. Feeling like he was back under control Victor lowered his head to smile back at Yuri's bemused face. "I... I don't know what to say..."

Their expressions said it all:  _I love you_.

Yuri smiled and tugged Victor towards him shyly. "Don't need words..."

Victor giggled in agreement as his forehead met Yuri's, and he leaned in the rest of the way. God, he couldn't get enough of kissing Yuri... it sapped the rest of his energy however, and his head started to droop into Yuri's shoulder with a contented moan, and Yuri laughed lightly as he saw Victor's dopey face up close. " _Sleep_ , Victor."

This time Victor did not object; he nodded. However... "Where...?"

Yuri froze, thought two things so quickly it was dizzying.  _Not upstairs! What would Guang Hong, Leo and Phichit say?! Best right here, on the couch, I'll get a blanket -_

 _No. In a proper bed. Not theirs, though... Phichit might not mind having a stranger in his bed -_ THAT SOUNDS SO WRONG,  _oh my god, stop thinking... he could... my... I... argh!!!_

Victor, not noticing Yuri's inner turmoil, half-asleep already, was murmuring, "s'alright, it's comfy here, have you got a - Yuri?"

Yuri turned into a lobster. "I... _'ouca'slee'i'my'oom_."

Victor blinked at him. "Umm..." He couldn't help it; laughter bubbled out of him. "I - haha! - I'm sorry, Yuri -  _Yuri!_ " He reached out and hugged Yuri, who had shrunk into himself with embarrassment, less a lobster and more a tortoise. Victor nuzzled into Yuri - he was so tired he wasn't entirely sure where his head had managed to end up - and cooed. "I'm sorry Yuri, but I didn't understand a word of that! What did you say?"

Yuri gave a shy squeak, and then slowly extracted himself from Victor's arms, taking his hand, and tugged. He stared forward as he led Victor upstairs, refusing to look back, smiled a little as Makkachin caught up and went ahead knowingly. He heard Victor murmur his name questioningly as he realised, but Yuri tightened his grip on Victor's hand as he pushed his bedroom door open and led Victor to his own futon, still spread out on the tatami floor. "Sl-Sleep here."

They both were bright red, barely able to meet each other's eyes, yet... they never let go of each other's hands. "Are you sure?" Victor asked quietly. It was no small thing, for him or for Yuri, to be invited into Yuri's space like this. But Yuri nodded, nodded again; yes, he was sure. "I'll... I'll change." Victor's eyes flickered quickly to Yuri's shy face and smiled teasingly. "Will you tuck me in?"

Yuri's eyes widened, flickered up to Victor's teasing smile and eased. He tried to match Victor's smile as best as he could. "If... if you want. Would you like a bedtime story too? Milk and cookies?"

Victor burst out laughing, making Yuri giggle too. "I think I would fall asleep before you could even get past 'once upon a time'!"

Yuri smiled, and finally looked up properly at Victor openly. "I... I don't actually have cookies, but if you do want some milk I -"

But Victor shook his head. "No, thank you, I -" He cut himself off as he shook his head with a smile. He raised his hands, cupped Yuri's face and gazed upon his loved one with such reverence.  _You take such care of me, my darling Yuri... thank you for loving me so_. But he was too tired to conjure the strength to say such words, so instead - "I get like Sir Pompous-Fart sometimes when I drink milk."

Yuri blinked up at him, and Victor got the pleasure of seeing the slow transformation, starting from widening eyes to the stretch of his lips and the dilating of his nostrils as he took in the air he'd need for full-blown laughter. Victor laughed too, pretending to pout as Yuri laughed so hard he had to wipe tears away - "Yu _uuu_ ri!" - and when Yuri left, taking his own clothes for the day, to give him privacy to change he heard Yuri continue to giggle through the house. It served as a pleasant distraction as Victor stripped off his socks and trousers, hesitated as he thought of whether or not to remove his shirt too and then decided to leave it on if he was going to sleep in Yuri's bed. Then Yuri was knocking on the door to ask if he was decent, and Victor scrambled under the duvet to preserve some kind of decorum.

Makkachin, who had been sitting quietly and wagging his tail as he watched the whole thing, decided that maybe it was a game and started tunnelling under the duvet from the other end just as Yuri came in, making the younger man giggle at the sight of only Makkachin's tail as Victor tried to push his dog back out - "no, silly Makka!" and Yuri approached to tickle Makkachin through the duvet. Excited, the poodle came out and sought out Yuri's hand directly for a proper scratch behind his ears.

"Did you want tucking in too, Makkachin?" Yuri teased the poodle as he knelt at Victor's side. Makkachin panted happily, and then went back to the end of the bed and tugged the duvet back into place, making the two men laugh as he nosed along Victor's covered body to check he was all tucked in instead before sitting next to Yuri, looking very proud of himself.

Victor reached out and petted Makkachin's head affectionately, glad that Makkachin was already on his wavelength. "Stay with Yuri for me, alright Makka?"

Makkachin humphed, and licked Victor's hand as it retreated to disappear under the covers. Yuri frowned. "He doesn't have to do that, he can stay here with you..."

Victor shook his head, lying back on his side, smiling up at Yuri. "All we'd do is have a snoring competition, no need for that. What are you going to do whilst I...?" He trailed off, feeling guilty for leaving Yuri to be bored.

Yuri however giggled, distracted. "Didn't think you were a snorer."

Victor grinned. "Well... I wouldn't actually know. No one's ever slept with me to tell me."

Yuri's smile faltered a little, and then he looked away shyly. "O-Oh... that's... umm... I see."

Victor blushed as he realised what he'd just said... and what he thought consequently.  _Will you tell me one day if I do?_

Yuri cleared his throat, and smiled down at Victor sweetly. "Victor... sleep. I'm afraid I don't remember any bedtime stories, but... just close your eyes and sleep. I need to go into town and run some errands; I'll take Makkachin, if that's alright?" Victor nodded softly, and Makkachin wagged his tail excitedly. Then Yuri frowned. "Or... I don't have to go out, I can stay -"

Victor took Yuri's hand and silenced him. "It's more than alright." And he gave him a look;  _don't worry about me_.

Yuri gave a sheepish nod. "A-Alright..." Then he smiled, fussed over the duvet, pulling it up around Victor chin's, much like Victor had down only a few weeks ago, both of them smiling happily at the memory, at its repetition. "Sleep."

"Don't I get a good night's kiss?"

Yuri gave a shy laugh as Victor grinned up teasingly at him, and then leant down and kissed Victor's forehead. "There." He laughed again as Victor gave a whine, and kissed him properly, once, twice, chuckled into the third as Victor hummed with satisfaction. " _There!_ Now sleep!"

With a happy chirp, Victor shuffled about under the duvet, shut his eyes, and was gone to the land of nod. Yuri shook his head affectionately at how quickly his beloved fell asleep, and quietly stood, herding Makkachin from the room, closed the door... and sighed quietly. Makkachin looked up at him, whining a little. Yuri shushed him hurriedly and scarpered downstairs, collecting his things to go out.

He needed to think.

Something that Makkachin picked up on. Halfway down the path to Kara he growled, irritated at Yuri's anxious silence - Yuri's anxiety had a particular smell. Makkachin  _hated_ it - and ran out in front of him and barked until Yuri stopped.

"Makka -?"

 _No!_ Makkachin barked.  _Something's wrong! What's wrong?!_

Yuri blinked down at the poodle, utterly dumbfounded. "Makkachin, I don't... do you want to go back? Is there something wrong? I -  _Victor_..." Panic infected Yuri as he looked back. Should he not have left him alone in the cottage? He'd never left anyone there before, what if -

Makkachin yowled at Yuri's misunderstanding and jumped up at him, making Yuri fall over and clambered on to his lap to pin him in place and he barked right in Yuri's confused and increasingly annoyed face. "Oomph! Makkachin, I don't understand what you're trying to tell me!"

Makkachin whined and flattened himself on Yuri's torso, nuzzling his nose under Yuri's chin, whimpering with concern.  _This works with Victor!_

"Makka, I... oh." Tentatively, Yuri wrapped his arms round the dog. "Is this a... are you  _hugging_ me, Makkachin?"

 _Was that not obvious?!_ Makkachin grumbled and biffed Yuri's chin with his nose before settling again, all of his legs wrapped round Yuri's torso. Yuri gave a laugh and hugged the dog back properly. "You silly thing..."

 _I'm not silly. Yuri's not happy. Victor's here, and Victor's happy, so what's making Yuri_ not _happy?_

Yuri sat up, waited for Makkachin to resettle and hugged the poodle again. He smelt a bit better now;  _see? It works with Victor, it works with Yuri! Now, Yuri..._ talk _._

"You are such a funny thing, such a  _good_ dog..."

Makkachin preened and licked Yuri's ear.  _Yes, I am a good dog!_

"But... this one's a bit... ano... ē to... aw-awkward..."

Makkachin pulled out of Yuri's embrace and cocked his head.  _Huh_ _?_

Yuri went bright red and dropped his head into his hands. "Oh  _Gods_... how am I going to tell Victor about this when I can't even tell  _Makkachin_?!"

 _Eh?_ Then, with lots of stops and stammered starts, Yuri told Makkachin what was on his mind. And like all family members, Makkachin wished at the end he hadn't pried.

"Makka...?" Yuri called out with confusion as the poodle staggered away, back down the path to town, and blushed as he picked himself up. Too much information for the poodle maybe. He got a bone for Makkachin later to say both sorry and thanks, and the dog snatched it up quickly;  _I_ earned _this_.

It was awkward returning home; Yuri was paranoid that - "Makkachin?"

The poodle looked up from his place at Yuri's side. He had been unusually quiet and obedient since Yuri's offloading. "Umm... please don't tell Victor about... about what I said..."

Makkachin stopped and glared at Yuri as best as his naturally un-glaring face could.  _How, exactly, would I tell Victor about_ that _?_

"Right... right. Umm..."

Makkachin continued up the garden path with a grumble.  _Humans..._

Victor wasn't downstairs when they went in, to which Yuri wasn't sure whether or not he was relieved. As he put things away in the kitchen though he heard Victor's footsteps on the landing, heard the wag of Makkachin's tail from the fireplace. Then he was melting into Victor's arms as he wound round his back, humming happily as Victor pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Hmm... sleep well?"

Victor simply nodded, rubbing his nose against Yuri's cheek and tightened his hold around him, nodding again. "Thank you..."

Yuri smiled and twisted enough to kiss Victor's cheek in return. "It's nothing, Victor."

"Thank you all the more then," Victor said, nuzzling a smile into Yuri's skin. "People forget the 'nothings' and the small 'somethings', I think."

Yuri hesitated, then turned in Victor's arms properly and hugged him tightly, burying himself into Victor's warmth. Victor hesitated too, unsure before hugging Yuri back. "You alright, Yuri?"

Yuri nodded, absolutely sure, and closed his eyes, feeling... like he was home.

 _It was only two days that you were away, that you couldn't come_ , Yuri thought.  _Yet I missed you so, so much. I missed that goofy smile of yours, and your laugh. I missed how your kisses make my heart race, and this most of all, your embrace... I know of no better balm. Being held by you, just like this, is better than... better than the warmth of the fire, than sleep, than every book I've ever read, than... than even Aunt Hirokei's katsudon. Better than skating or dancing._

_I was once so nervous about this, about your touch. What a fool I was._

_Victor... do I make you feel this happy too? Please... I so hope that I do..._

"Did you get everything you needed from town?" Victor asked softly into Yuri's hair, stroking the back of his head softly.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I... I didn't need much." Yuri shuffled a little in Victor's arms, opening his eyes to a view of Victor's jaw. "Are you hungry? I can -"

Victor's stomach rumbled loudly. The two blinked for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing, ending their embrace but putting grins on their faces. "I take that as a 'yes'," Yuri said, clutching his sides to try and contain himself.

Unabashed, Victor just grinned. "Hmm! How can I help?"

If ever you were foolish enough to ask, Victor always preferred days like these with Yuri over the short evenings he stole during the week. He would rather chop ginger and peel sweet potato and wash shiitake, trying not to cut his own fingers off with the kitchen knife Yuri always seemed reluctant to hand over, than sit around the palace waiting for luncheon. He remembered with great fondness watching Yuri prepare their first meal together once, watching Yuri's deft hands with the blade, the practiced motions of sweeping finished ingredients into a pot, and then the colour of Yuri's cheeks as he asked for him to show Victor how to do everything he'd just done. Even months on, every time Victor picked up the kitchen knife he felt rusty, but then as he got going it would all come back to him, until he could both chop and talk.

Perhaps what he loved most of all, even though he was always a little nervous, was waiting for Yuri to take the first bite of whatever they had made together, and for Yuri to smile with satisfaction. "Oishī!"

Some times to tease, Yuri imitated him -  _"Vkusno!"_ \- to make Victor laugh.

"I could teach you more of the Northern tongue, if you like," Victor offered, poking Yuri's leg with his toe teasingly.

Yuri poked him right back, but with his finger into Victor's ribs. "I know a little..." Victor forgot the jab, looking up with eager interest. "I... it's not much; Minako-sensei didn't know much to teach, so it was mostly from books. I tried reading Plisetsky-san's books, but... it's a little tiring, we have to translate a lot between Common and Katsukan all day, and that's easy, but..." He trailed off with a non-committal shrug. His guardians had brought him bi-lingual between Common - the language spoken in the core lands of the kingdom, the language of the Imperial Family - and the Katsukan dialect, and Yuri knew a few bits of the dialects that Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo individually knew too. Even Yuri, with his intelligence, struggled to juggle so many languages in his mind at once.

Victor didn't mind Yuri's unfinished explanation, though his curiosity wasn't sated. "What do you remember?"

Yuri looked to the ceiling to think, chopsticks at his lips. "Ano... mogu li... mogu li ya poluchit' shokoladnyy tort?"

Victor slowly grinned to his full heart-shaped smile. "That's so  _cute!_ "

"Eh?" Yuri blushed automatically. "All I said was... oh gods, did I get it wrong, did I say something else?!" His eyes widened with horror and he covered his mouth with his hands in worry.

Victor tilted his head to the side. "Well, I'm afraid I don't have any chocolate cake, but I might be able to sneak some out next time the cook makes some."

Yuri sighed with relief. "Yokatta..."

Victor beamed and carried on teasing. "We might be able to get some from town later if you really want chocolate cake -"

"Victor..." Then Yuri frowned, thinking. "Oh... I don't think anyone makes it in Kara, we'd have to go to Dazaifu..."

Victor giggled. "Why did you learn how to ask for it then?"

Yuri shrugged. "I don't know, it was just in the book! I also know how to say 'I have three hamsters', but that's about it." Victor laughed. "That was homework, Phichit used to have hamsters," Yuri explained with a giggle that died off at the thought of his guardian.

Noticing, Victor took Yuri's hand gently. "Have you heard from him, from them?"

Soon after their trip to Dazaifu together Yuri had told Victor about the true nature of his guardians, of the ice and the bamboo grove they were in. It gave Victor dizzying deja vu, but he had listened to everything, asked for more detail, some of which Yuri knew and some that he didn't. Victor hadn't heard of The Pit any more than Yuri had, nor did he make the connection between Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo as the fairies of Siam, Xin and Columbia that he knew as the Three Grand Prix Fairies. Why would he? He knew of the Three Grand Prix Fairies as the protectors of Lord Katsuki's heir, as the vanquishers of evil witches and wizards, dragons and poltergeists, not as guardians who took a young boy to school, cooked, did laundry and other chores.

Yuri shrank into himself. "N-No... I haven't." He peered over at the crystal ball sitting on the mantelpiece above the fire. "I'm not even sure they're getting my messages."

His chest tightened. He kept awkwardly talking into that ball, hoping that his guardians were hearing what he was saying, but... nothing.

It had been a long, long time since he'd actually spoken to his guardians face-to-face, as it were, using the ball. They must have barely set out on their journey, were somewhere with bright blue skies, and Yuri could hear water lapping in the background, and they all looked tanned and healthy. Then one evening the ball chimed and Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo told him that where they were going was too far away for them to speak directly again, but that they would leave messages when they could. And they did... awkward minute long ones where they looked tired and haggard... in pain even once. Their smiles became weaker and weaker, _more and more fake_... but every time they reassured that they were fine and well. Most of the time, Yuri  _chose_ to believe them, with conscious effort... other times, it was simply too hard.

He wanted them to come home. He wanted them to be honest with him, to stop treating him like a child and tell him where they had gone, why they had gone and why it was taking such a toll on them... and then once they were done telling him, to let him tell them that they were idiots to have gone there and come back immediately.

Except that sounded too childish... and they were... they knew what they were doing... didn't they?

Oh Gods... he really hoped they did. It was so easy to forget that the silly young men who had brought him up who burned porridge and could barely wash sheets without magic, who either got overly excited whenever they went to town ('they', read, Phichit), or absolutely refused to step outside the confines of the bamboo grove and approach society (Guang Hong. Leo just accepted that and stayed back with Guang Hong), those silly, silly fairies were also...

Yuri had grown up with stories that they all told him; Phichit's were openly magical, and Guang Hong and Leo's were... they both struggled to keep the 'I' and 'we' out of their sentences when describing great feats against armies of untold strength and power, about fiends that brought terrible catastrophe and that incredible heroes banded together to defeat. When Yuri had realised that they were recounting tales of their  _own_ adventures,  _oh_... he had so looked forward, even more, to bedtime.

Ah... they had been good days. Wake up, go to school, learn and learn and  _learn_ , everything his curious mind could gobble up, and then home to skate and skate and  _skate_ until his feet ached, then the leisurely retirement of dinner, helping his guardians around the house, bathing, and then  _bedtime stories_...

Yes, it had been a good childhood. The only thing that Yuri wished he had had... was... well...

... Someone like Victor. Not a... lover, if that's what he was now, but... someone who was a best friend. Someone he looked forward to seeing more than anyone else. The closest thing he'd had to that was Phichit, but... Phichit also told him to brush his teeth, asked if his homework was done before he went to skate (yes, of course it was). Phichit was his guardian, his  _parent_ ; it wasn't even close to being the same.

He rather envied Victor sometimes, and how easily he could speak of living with his father in Piter, even Victor was uncomfortable describing the affluence of such arrangements. But Victor was twenty one, nearly twenty two and he still lived with his family and had no concept of that changing. For Yuri... he still felt too young to be alone.

Not completely alone anymore though. Victor squeezed his hand, leant in closer. He opened his mouth, about to say ' _I'm sure they're fine_ ', but then changed his mind; Yuri had once lost his temper once when he had said that, regretting the snap the moment it came out of his mouth. Victor hadn't quite learnt what to say instead though; he had however learnt not to let go. Yuri looked up in faint surprise at Victor's quiet assurance, and smiled weakly, leaning forward too to meet Victor's forehead with his own, and voiced the obvious. "I'm worried about them."

"I know." Not ' _don't_ '. That wasn't possible, not for Yuri, not for anyone. People worry about the ones they care about. Victor rubbed his thumb over Yuri's knuckles. "I'm sure they miss you too."

Yuri smiled at that, not finding it within himself to lie and say that Victor was wrong, even though he had never met his guardians. Yuri still hadn't told them about Victor... hadn't even told Victor that he hadn't. Victor had never asked, though... Yuri suspected he wanted to.

A thought for another day though, for both us and them. "Victor? Let's go skating."

There, upon the ice, Yuri asked Victor to teach him the choreography he had once demonstrated to Yuri, the program he had skated for his father's wedding anniversary, having longed to watch Victor perform it again for him, to find another story within the yearning in the choreography. After a few hours of sweaty relentlessness, Yuri finally turned to Victor, who had assumed nothing of the request why.

"It's my birthday today."

Victor nearly fell over on his skates, aghast. " _What_?!" His heads flew to his face, horrified. "Oh God, Yuri, I... I-didn't-know! Why-didn't-you-tell-me?! I... I haven't gotten you anything! I -"

"Victor!" Yuri scrambled to Victor, tried to pry his hands away. "No, Victor, I... I'm sorry, I didn't... it doesn't matter, it's just -"

Victor frowned and let his hands drop to glare at Yuri. "Of course it matters, it's your  _birthday_!" Internally, he was berating himself; Victor couldn't care less about his own birthday, yet he liked marking the birthdays of others. He would spoil Yura rotten on his birthdays in the early spring, with things that were utterly useless and things that the boy actually really, really wanted until Yurio snapped at him for being a sap to hide how touched he actually was. Christophe was long used to Victor being very bad at sneaking gifts through in the weeks coming up to his in late winter, to Victor's unsubtle hints whenever they browsed shops during their excursions in the city. Victor was already planning gifts for Yule... it felt like a  _failure_ to have not gotten anything for Yuri.

He hung his head in shame. "Yuri, I'm so sorry... I... I had imagined... I had imagined spoiling you for your birthday." Then he frowned, thinking of the day they'd had, of him turning up after not appearing for several days and having to sleep in Yuri's bed because he was so exhausted and wasting all those hours they could have been together, and all they'd done since he woke was have lunch and -

Yuri skated up a little closer, so he was barely inches away, looking up shyly. "Victor, I... I don't want you to... I mean... you kind of  _have_ spoilt me..." Yuri found Victor's hand, smiled at the softness of his palm. "It's stupid, but... I was afraid you wouldn't make it at all, even though I didn't tell you. And even though you were so tired, it was... nice to..." Yuri blushed. "To... to take care of you. And this has been nice, learning your choreography." Yuri smiled through pink cheeks. "It's been a nice day... that's all I wanted."

Victor, touched, pressed his forehead to Yuri's, and pouted slightly. "But I wanted to  _give_ you something... I don't know what, but...  _something_..."

Yuri smiled adoringly, and tried not to shrink into a protective ball as an idea popped into his head. "I know of something you could give me..." Victor looked up, eager to know. "You could give me a kiss..."

Victor blinked, having not seen that coming, and then grinned, more than happy to be teased. "That sounds like a good idea for a birthday gift." He nuzzled Yuri's cheek with the tip of his nose, nudging close to - he pulled back, a finger on his lips in faux-thought. "Ah, but I don't have any wrapping paper."

Yuri, nearly losing his balance having started to lean forward, blinked in confusion. "P-Paper...?"

"Well, yes. A gift should be wrapped. With ribbons, and a bow." Victor even mimed the action of tying a bow in the small space between them, even though Yuri's hand was still in his.

Yuri glared at him, feeling robbed.

"Hmm, you don't really use wrapping paper in the Katsukan lands though, you use boxes... I could put a kiss in a lacquer box for you, how does that sound?" Victor continued to tease evilly.

Yuri remained silent, impatient. Was he done yet?

"Oooooor..." Victor took both of Yuri's hands, wrapped them up round his neck and wrapped his own arms round Yuri, pulling him in tight, his eyes on Yuri's lips. "I could forgo all of that, and just give you your gift directly, does that sound bet- hmm!"

Yuri pulled him in and claimed his gift.  _Hurry up, silly, silly man of mine_. Victor grinned into their kiss to begin with, and then concentrated on making his birthday present to Yuri the very best it could be.

"Do you want the same for your twentieth birthday too? You could have it in advance if you like," Victor teased after they paused for air, "and your twenty-first birthday present too."

"Victor..." Yuri eventually silenced him. "Kiss me so that I must live until I'm a  _thousand_ years old..."

They went back to the cottage to make some headway with that. At which point Makkachin went and left them to it in the main room on the couch in front of the fire to spread-eagle over Yuri's bed, trying not to think too much of what Yuri had confided in him that morning. The poodle grumbled a lot to himself as he settled down on the neatly folded futon, tucking his head into his soft belly, and tried not to listen. Really tried.

It didn't work.

Reader. Get your head out of the gutter.

"Clo-" Yuri couldn't quite complete the word, his eyes closed blissfully, his lips still trying to reconnect to Victor's as he tugged at Victor's neck, adjusting on the couch so that he could lay back, pulling Victor with him. Victor sealed the kiss and went down with it, fitting into Yuri's side, almost tucked down the back of the couch, and he hummed happily as Yuri wound his arms round him to hold on. It made for an awkward fit, and some of the cushions fell off the side of the couch on to the floor, but Yuri knew only the warmth of Victor's body tucked in against him, and the bliss that went through his every nerve when Victor's lips sealed against his own.

Yuri loved that feeling, that bliss. He could feel how big Victor's hands were on his back, on his hip when he held him there because he was worried Yuri was going to fall off the couch. He could run his own hands down the slight trench of Victor's spine, the dip between his shoulder muscles; if Yuri did it right, digging his fingers in just a little all the up that dip from the seat of Victor's back, Victor would shiver and turn to goo on top of him. There were so many other things that made Yuri's nerves sing; like when he kept his grip in Victor's soft hair light - Victor would tense if it was too tight, if he pulled - or when Victor would trail kisses down his jaw to his neck.

Oh Gods... he loved it when Victor did that. There was just one really very big problem... well, not  _very_ big, but... not small either...

Eventually all that sparkling feeling from the tips of his toes to the centre of his bones would just be sucked up into one focal point. And as pleasurable as it was... it also felt excruciatingly _vulnerable_ getting a hard-on.

Usually, Yuri could see it coming; that line where he knew his endurance had ran out. When he got too close to the line he would pause and refocus from the burning kisses he shared with Victor to something more affectionate, something calming, as though he was pushing that energy out into Victor with just simple gestures. Like a nudge of his nose against Victor's forehead and cheeks, concentrate on just stroking Victor's hair, hug him close and listen to his heartbeat. Then, when sufficiently calmed, Yuri would claim a few more kisses, steal some more gasps from Victor's lips before settling again, contented and loved.

But on this occasion... maybe it was because of his birthday. Maybe it was because Victor particularly seemed intent on making it all feel so much better for Yuri to celebrate, was kissing him just a touch harder, was a little firmer coaxing out Yuri's moans as he sucked lightly on his pulse. Most likely however it was because Victor sucked just a little harder on his neck, gasped  _just right_ after into his pulse, and after an awkward pause shuffled about on the couch and then dug back in to kiss Yuri again, his lips ravenous for Yuri's. Victor's knee slipped between Yuri's, and just to put a cherry on top of all the other sensations that held so,  _so_ much promise, Victor's hand slid up Yuri's torso and tweaked his nipple on its way up to cup Yuri's cheek.

 _Too much_.

For a moment in heaven, Yuri's mind consisted of nothing more than  _'please do that again', 'more', 'oh gods', 'Victor, Victor, Victor'_. Then Yuri came hurtling back into his own body to find it on fire and his hakama  _tented_ and everything was too sensitive and _too much_ and _oh Gods what if Victor realised_ , _what if he noticed_ , _what if he saw or felt it or_... or...

 _Animal_ , that cruel voice whispered in his head.  _No control. Disgusting. What will he think of you, getting so worked up?_

"Hey... Yuri, hey, don't panic, don't... Yuri?!"

Yuri opened his eyes. He hadn't even realised he'd shut them. "Victor...?" He was right there, looking so worried, holding on Yuri tightly. Oh, Yuri realised. He was shaking. They both were.

 _Oh Gods... I just ruined... I just messed everything up... oh Gods..._ " _I'msorry_ ," Yuri spluttered wildly, wriggling inside his own skin.  _Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose control, I don't... I don't... I don't know..._

"Yuri...?" Victor refused to let go of his lover, clung on tighter, moving his hands over Yuri's back to try and soothe, to his cheek to comfort. "Yuri, what's wrong, what's wrong, my love?"  _Should I kiss him? Will that help?_ Just as he leant in to do just that, naively, Yuri flinched and their bodies threatened to fall off the couch, and -

Victor's eyes widened as he felt  _it_. Yuri froze as his erection brushed Victor's hip, and whimpered pathetically.  _Please, please, it's too much, I'm sorry, I don't know what to do, it's too much, too much, too much..._

Victor's eyes fluttered down to Yuri's groin and stared with shock for a moment. "Oh."

Yuri gave a horrified choke, bringing Victor's attention back to him, and as he realised what was causing Yuri's discomfort instantly Victor started to coo and shush him. "Oh my darling... Yuri, it's alright, don't worry..."

_No, it's not alright! I don't know what I'm doing, I'm sorry..._

"Nothing to be sorry for, my love..." Victor said softly.

Victor was lost. Yuri was trembling in his reach, really only a few inches away from him, yet he was so tense he was shrinking. His eyes were wild, looking anywhere but Victor's face because every time he met Victor's eyes he'd flinch with... shame. It made Victor flinch in return, to see Yuri so painfully uncomfortable in his body, but also... it took a lot for Victor to remember that Yuri was looking ashamed of  _him_. Neither of them had anything to be ashamed of, he thought. He... when he saw the pointed hill of Yuri's hakama and realised why Yuri was looking so vulnerable... firstly he understood. But also... he was  _flattered_.

But that flattery meant nothing right then to Yuri, and it was Yuri he was worried about. Victor wanted to calm him, soothe him and tell him that it really was alright, but in this state he wasn't sure that Yuri could hear him. What to do? Should he... should he kiss him? Victor leant in to do so, but Yuri whimpered, and turned inwards, like he was trying to bury himself into the couch and hide his arousal from everything. Maybe not a kiss then. Maybe...?

Victor blushed as an idea occurred to him. It wasn't a particularly good idea - it  _terrified_ him actually - but... he was all out of ideas. "Yuri...? Really, my darling, it's all alright. You're... you're not al-" Victor couldn't get the rest of the word out. It was too exposing, like he might as well take off his clothes. But also Yuri couldn't hear him it seemed, so shrunk into himself and what he was panicking about. Upstairs Makkachin whimpered loudly and raced down, restless and confused. "Yuri, I -"  _Just do it_.

Victor seized Yuri's hand and murmured an embarrassed apology before tugging Yuri's hand to his own trousers. To the erection he also was sporting.

It was more than a little awkward, no less because the angle had been a little off and it was the back of Yuri's hand that was pressed against Victor's groin. But more importantly... the sensation caught both young men off-guard. For Victor...  _it was so temptingly good to feel Yuri's fingers there_. But he was very aware of Yuri's shock that had just brought him out of his panic, and he didn't want Yuri to panic more by seeing just how  _good_ it felt for Victor.

As for Yuri... he didn't understand. Victor was  _hard_. No, more than that... he was hard _too_. He was aroused  _too_. It... it wasn't just Yuri feeling like this. He... he wasn't alone.

"V-Victor...?"

Victor watched Yuri turn back slowly to face him, letting Yuri's hand drop. They both blushed as Yuri retracted his fingers; it felt almost ill-mannered, moving his hand away. Then finally Victor said, hesitatingly, "me too. I was excited too. You made me feel good too."

Across the room, Makkachin calmed, confused, and settled. Meanwhile, Yuri's eyes widened with revelation that he couldn't cope with.  _I... I did that...? W_ _hat must he think of me? I reacted so badly just now..._

"Hey, hey... enough of that now. No more worrying," Victor said, and Yuri's mind went quiet, confused that it had been read so easily and quickly, and unable to generate a response. "Here, let me -" Victor reached round him and grabbed a cushion off the floor, and wedged it between them at their groins, covering their vulnerabilities. "Better?"

Yuri stared at the cushion uncomprehendingly, and then back up at Victor, and thought...  _he's taking care of me... such good care... wonderful, wonderful Victor, how can you be so kind?_ He smiled weakly, and nodded.

"Good. Yuri?"

Yuri lifted his head, not quite able to speak words just yet.

"Can... can I kiss you?"

Guilt kicked again.  _Oh Victor... you don't ever need to ask, even now._ Yuri didn't even bother to say 'yes' or nod, he just leant forward. The kiss Victor gave him was soft, delicate, like drinking a sip of ginger and mint tea when he had a stomach ache. After Victor pressed his forehead against Yuri's, nuzzled at his nose with his own, fussed at ceases in his kimono. "How do you feel?"

Yuri still had no words. He felt like such a fool. But also... he felt _safe_. Victor looked so nonplussed; did he really not judge him for what just happened? For Yuri's loss of control? He studied Victor's face... oh. He didn't... he really didn't...  _oh_.

Yuri buried himself into Victor's chest, wrapping himself round Victor like an octopus, cushion and all. Victor gave a startled laugh and hugged him right back, rocking him gently, stroking his hair. He pressed more kisses into Yuri's temple, the only part of him he could reach with Yuri disappearing into his own warmth. "I'm sorry -"

Victor humphed. "Enough of that now, Yuri. No more 'I'm sorry's. Just tell me what happened there, please?"

Yuri's fists clenched and he turned his head enough so that his words wouldn't be muffled into Victor's shirt. "I... I thought..." Yuri frowned. He could barely remember what he had thought, and what he could remember... to speak it aloud to Victor, it felt so stupid. "I th-thought you'd think... b-badly of me." He turned bright red. Victor was one of the best people he knew; he was scathing of some of the courtiers that he didn't care about, but those that he did... even his kid half-brother was spoken of with laughter and love for all his strange antics, even when he irritated Victor. Why would he think badly of Yuri when he was kissing him? "I... I didn't mean to ruin things... it was really... umm... n-nice, before..."

Victor giggled and rubbed Yuri's shoulders. "Just 'nice'?" He teased.

Yuri blushed and burrowed back into Victor's collar. "More than nice..."

Victor smiled into Yuri's hair. "For me too." He bent his head, trying to find Yuri's face. "It's... strange, isn't it? I've never... I've never gotten  _excited_ with anyone before." His heart clenched as he remembered what happened in the stables years ago. It stung that it was true.  _I'm glad it was you who was first_ , Victor silently said to Yuri,  _I'm glad you're the first to make me feel 'nice'. I wish all of this had just been you first. You only._

Yuri sighed in Victor's arms. "Oh... that's... that's good to know." He couldn't help but feel - "I'm... flattered."

Victor laughed and kissed the top of Yuri's head. "You should be. I feel flattered too." He pressed another kiss, and then reached in to lift Yuri's head up so he could say this directly. "Hey... it really is all alright. If you feel uncomfortable, we can stop anytime. I don't want you to do something that you don't like, not with me."  _Promise me you'll do the same for me too... please._

Yuri smiled and leant up, pressed his nose to Victor's and let his eyes shut contentedly. He felt safe again, happy and safe. "Me too. I don't want you to be uncomfortable either."

Victor smiled, trying not to feel relieved and just feel happy, and kissed Yuri lightly, nodding against his lips. "You know... I was trying so hard to hide it, hide  _mine_ , before you... y'know."

Yuri blushed as he realised why Victor had shuffled about on the couch only a minute before. "Oh."

Victor smiled before he kissed Yuri again, and it took a moment for Yuri to catch up, shocked by the knowledge that he  _really_ wasn't the only one. "I... ano... when we were walking in to town, Makkachin was worried about me, so I told him that... that I was nervous about things going out control like this. He looked like he didn't want to know after."

Victor laughed, glad that Yuri chuckled too. "Silly Makka," he said affectionately, and peered at his quieted dog, who had moved to the fireplace in the kitchen, no longer worried and pacing. Makkachin looked up and wagged his tail, and then settled again, making Victor smile. Then he turned back to Yuri. "Is it alright to get rid of the cushion now? Do we still need it?"

Yuri reddened but nodded; no issues anymore. Victor plucked it out and set it back on the floor, but respectfully made no move, kept that little bit of distance. Yuri had no complaints as Victor held him again, and he listened to Victor's calm heartbeat. He felt worn out; a long day, it felt.

"Do you want to do anything? Are you hungry?" Victor asked softly, one hand stroking Yuri's hair and the other his back.

"No," Yuri replied quietly. He wanted to do nothing that involved moving; he was perfectly fine where he was.

Victor's chest shock as he giggled, reading Yuri's mind. "Do you want me to be quiet? We can just lie here, for however long you want."

If Yuri had his way, that would be forever, but that was a bit impractical. But more importantly, the question seemed odd. Yuri raised his chin up to peer at Victor. "You don't have to be quiet. Did you want to talk?"

Victor nodded bashfully. "It feels like my tongue is restless, does that make sense?"

Yuri blinked as he thought...  _I could occupy your tongue_. Then he blushed and resettled in Victor's arms again; he wasn't entirely sure what his mind meant by that, but... hmm. But he did understand what Victor meant, even if he never really felt like that himself. Phichit did that some times, just talk about nothing because he couldn't keep quiet for a moment. "What's on your mind?"

 _Many things_ , Victor admitted to himself, but none that he wanted to think too much about. He wanted to tell Yuri about... well, just about anything of not much significance, something light and cheery, funny perhaps - ooh!

"Did I tell you that Yurio's tutor has resigned?" Victor said gleefully.

"Another one?"

"Mmm! Didn't even last a month. Yurio threw a book at him - well, Yurio says he wasn't _aiming_ for him, but I'm not sure we all really believe that - and it went through the window. Lilia was not pleased."

"How many is that now?"

"Broken windows or tutors?"

Yuri pinched Victor's side for the tease, and the two chuckled tired. "Tutors," Yuri clarified.

"The tenth in three years," Victor said proudly. Truly, he did feel a sense of pride about it; it was so spoilt, but also... Victor had met them all. Good riddance to many of them; they reminded him of the governesses he had to tolerate as a young child.

"Have they got another one lined up?" Yuri asked, eyes closed and on the cusp of falling asleep.

Victor chuckled at the sleepiness in Yuri's voice, kissed the top of his head again. "No, not yet, I think. Papa's furious, but Lilia..." Victor trailed off, realising that he was about to voice the suspicion that had been tickling is brain for a little while. "I think she has a plan. I wonder what they'll do now."

Victor sighed, trying to think. He really didn't know. He looked down and chuckled; Yuri certainly wasn't wondering or thinking; he'd fallen asleep. Victor kissed his forehead and closed his own eyes. He didn't sleep, but at least he could rest with Yuri's warmth surrounding him.

He tried not to think what it would have felt like to have just carried on kissing earlier without worrying, just how 'nice' it could have been...

* * *

XXXVI

* * *

A quick glimpse into the stupefying life of Lord Yuri Feltsman.

Many of his tutors all told the same story, some even with these exact words; he was too smart for his own good. Some tried to mean this as a compliment, others didn't bother. Naturally intelligent, with a sharpness far beyond his years, Yuri was a thorough pain in these teachers' backsides because he was also  _very lazy_.

Here's an example; Yura mastered reading and writing earlier than his peers - not that he had any, being taught at the palace away from any other children for fear that he might throw his desk at them in a frustrated huff - and once he knew what he was doing, he practically stopped reading and writing. He didn't enjoy practicing the writing of letters, or reading great tomes of history that were written by bland, dull, dead historians; none of it excited him, or - and this was the key thing - none of it  _challenged_ him any more. His tutors tried to teach him the politics, but were shouted at because Yuri already  _knew_ it all because a courtier had lectured his ears off when he was dragged to court to see what his father did. They tried to teach him science, only to find that he knew all of that because he'd made the mistake of making fun of Christophe when he was doing his homework and Christophe had dared him to write a better essay, and the boy had had to do his research to win the dare (they had made Victor read them to be the judge. Victor cheated, skim read them both, and then lied and said he was still deciding until they got the hint and stopped asking).

Think back upon your best teachers; were they the best because of how much they knew, or were they  _great_ because of how excited they made you about what they knew, because of how they made you  _hungry_ to learn more?

Yura didn't have such a luxury. There's really no point in denying that he was spoilt - even  _he_ knew that - but it still remains the case that it was incredibly frustrating having people trying to teach him things he didn't care about, and who couldn't inspire him to care about them, or even cared enough about him to try. Lord Yuri Feltsman was stuck; he was the second son, due to inherit only a cushy life if his father and one day Victor continued to allow it (not something he needed to worry about, but who knew who would replace them one day?) and so his education served no purpose other than to keep him occupied and to make him look good as the Great Lord's second son. Lord Yakov didn't see it that way himself - he hoped that it would shape and refine Yura, give him opportunities or interests or give him a purpose of his own perhaps - and Yurio knew that, but... to the rest of the court, he was a second-thought. And he  _resented_ it.

He was twelve. He was twelve, had no future, was smart enough to know it, and even worse was so smart he should have had  _any future_ he wanted. In another life he had the potential to be a prodigy in any field he chose. But in this life... he didn't.

To top it off, his temper was so volatile that even he didn't trust himself around others, so it was perhaps a good thing that going to Turicum, like Victor had, was out of the question. Relations with the Giacometti's were still fragile, and were set to remain so whilst Christophe continued to have Lord Victor Feltsman's support, and Lord Yakov's subsequently. So Yura didn't have anywhere to go even. His life was set to be the same...

He  _hated_ it.  _Hated_ it.

He really had been aiming the book at the window. It was either the window, or his tutor. They had been arguing over the history of the conflict between the Feltsman and Katsuki clans, with greater favour of perspective to the Feltsmans. Yuri had gotten very irate over how one sided the tutor's retelling was, and all the inaccuracies he could point out; it was, after all, his own family's history, and he knew how bloody his grandfather had been because his father had tried so hard to be anything but. The tutor kept crediting Lord Yakov with the brokering of the peace, at which point Yurio really lost his rag; his father always said that there would never been any peace were it not for  _Lord Katsuki Toshiya_ , not himself.

Not that that really meant a great deal to Lady Lilia. She had no objection to her son's fiery spirit - she had _raised_ him, don't assume that his temper came from nowhere - so long as they didn't need to repairs things after.

Ah, Lady Lilia Feltsman, nee Baranovskaya. What a woman.

Reader; we have the great privilege of being able to  _know_ this woman. See, those that didn't - and that was  _many_ \- tended not to like Lady Lilia, and she was not the type to let many get to know her.

She was the eldest of a string of daughters, and her father was the owner and manager of one of the few ice-rinks within reach of Piter. It was actually a lake on a great estate, which they then chemically treated to get the most out of it, but the estate was home to several farmers, farm workers and their families, and the Baranovskaya family members were traditionally very involved in either the lake or the agriculture. Lilia had connected to the ice very early on in her life, was taught figure skating by her mother, whilst her sisters had gone towards helping their father with the farms, though the youngest, the baby of the family, was actually studying to be a nurse (though she actually wanted to be a surgeon. Lilia was determined to remove the obstacles she could to ensure that, if her sister really was good enough, she could, but it was early days still).

Maybe it was because he had no sons (Lilia suspected that her youngest sister was a 'one last try' child). Or maybe he believed in the equal strength and autonomy of women alongside their male counterparts. More like it was the former, but in any case Master Baranovskaya brought his four girls up to be strong as pillars, to be unbreakable and to hold up those that they supported. Their lives had been lacking in finery perhaps, and their lives were busy and productive, but they never really wanted for anything.

Despite being the eldest, Lilia was the last of the three oldest daughters to marry (the youngest wasn't remotely interested in the company of men, despite being surrounded by them whilst she did her training). When she was twenty-seven, her mother retired from the management of the ice rink and skating school and Lilia took over, and very soon after Lord Yakov brought his son to her to teach. She knew perfectly well that the Feltsmans were always ice-sprinters, but young Lord Victor... he would probably have been a fine sprinter, but no. Definitely not. She could see it in those blue eyes of his that he inherited from his mother.

She hadn't liked Lord Yakov at first. She hadn't disliked him either, but he had just been a customer, not any different from the many others who brought their children to learn to skate from the aristocratic class, or the commoners looking for a day out, a treat, or the performers who toured the land and needed somewhere to train. But she had liked that he didn't argue with her, listened to her feedback on Victor's progress, and spoke to her with all the respect that she deserved as someone providing him a service. So when the day came that he turned up with flowers for her, it had been a pleasant surprise and not an unpleasant one, and she had given him a chance to impress her.

His title again meant nothing to her. His wealth also. She was not a vain woman or a greedy one; her lifestyle required no improvement that he could offer her. But he, Yakov as a man... hmm. He made her think of a lion, an alpha lion. She liked that, admired and respected that... was aroused by it. Perhaps above all though, she liked how he looked at her like she was his match, his  _equal_ , as strong and powerful as each other. She enjoyed their conversation, their co-operation as a couple against the court that saw her as inferior and ill-suited to the title of the lady of the clan. And when they married, she definitely enjoyed the advantages of her woman's body.

Still did. Though she was adamant that their Yura was going to be her only contribution to the family tree. No, thank you... after all, Yuri wasn't the only child in the family.

Of course, Victor was grown up now, and Lilia would never think of him as her son, per se, any more than he would think of her as his mother. Victor had a mother, and even though she was long gone, Talia Feltsman nee Nikiforov would remain Victor's mother, and whilst it would be naive to say that Victor didn't need a mother, he didn't need  _another_ mother. That was not how their family worked, and that was the key thing; no matter what, Lilia definitely saw Victor as  _family_ , just as Victor saw her that way too. That had been a proud day for Lilia, when they sat down to talk about what kind of familial relationship they both wanted, and she had been proud of him too to sit with his step-mother and talk both such personal things.

And speaking of family, Lilia had an uncle.

Her mother, Anna, had once been a ice-skater who toured the country to perform. Lilia gathered that she had been a bit of a rebel and had run away from her more traditional family, but the road for such young women was... not altogether savoury. Her father was not the first to fall at first sight for her - Lilia's mother had an incredible, glacial beauty, like she was carved out of ice to perfection - but he was the first to be gentle, to be better than the other options. And, pragmatically speaking, he was wealthy enough and his adoration of her meant that he was generous and kind to her. It wasn't a perfect marriage - now that Lilia was old and wise enough she suspected that affection had come after the eldest sisters were born, and before the youngest was - but it was what it was.

Her mother's sister, Sasha, has also been a bit of a rebel in that she married a man for love who was just finishing his accountancy training. The two sisters kept in touch just enough to know that they had both been disinherited and their rather useless brother had inherited all of very little, and that Sasha and her husband moved to Urajio to work with the Customs office there, and then eventually across the other side of the Ribenhai to Dazaifu, and then to a town called Kara that wasn't too far away from Dazaifu. They hadn't had any children, but they had had a dog; a shiba inu, to be precise. Sasha then passed away quite some time ago, but the husband, as far as Lilia was aware, was still alive, and presumably living in Kara still.

Not long after Lord Christophe's flight to Piter with Kubo Masumi, Lilia took Yura to go visit his grandparents and aunts on the Baranovskaya estate, and was catching up with her mother. After a very long conversation about Lilia's sisters bickering amongst themselves over nothings - avoiding the actual argument of who was going to inherit the estate one day, both having married into two of the more affluent families living on the estate - Anna Baranovskaya mentioned that she had heard mention of her sister's widower, as one of the sisters' husbands exported to the Katsukan lands and they used to have a key figure they relied on in the Customs office in Urajio, and the two wondered aloud together how Nicolai Plisetsky was faring in the Katsukan lands still.

This curiosity led to the writing of a letter to a small bookshop in Kara politely requesting a correspondence.

Over time, Lilia learnt that her uncle was looking to retire from his bookshop, and suspected that perhaps he did not have the means to. He wrote of an apprentice, the most competent he had ever come across in his career, who he would have liked to hand the reins over to, but wasn't certain to which degree. Did he want to sell the shop to this young man - he was only eighteen at the time of writing, for all his competency - or just have the young man manage the shop and just withdraw? He couldn't decide. In any case, Lilia doubted that a teenager could afford to buy Plisetsky out, and that Plisetsky couldn't afford to replace himself so he could retire, so...

Very carefully, very slowly, Lilia started introducing the idea of her uncle returning the Feltsman lands. She gathered that he was reluctant - funds again maybe, there wasn't an enormous amount of money in his career - but slowly it became a question of... what would he return for?

The answer to that came around the time her son threw out his sixth tutor in less than two years. Because of the fraught relationship with the Giacometti's, sending Yura to  _Le Turicum École_ , like Victor had as per tradition, was no longer an option. A good thing, perhaps. So he was being tutored at the palace, and... it was not working. It was not working at all. She told her uncle of how vexed she was that the tutors were of such poor standard - they were all highly knowledgable, but were too traditional; teaching meant lectures, recitations, and her Yura refused to go along with it.

 _Sounds like your son needs someone who challenges him_ , Nicolai wrote.

An idea sprang into her mind, and once it did it seemed so obvious in its way. So came about a tentative offer... and eventually, it was accepted.

And that is how a broken window led to Plisetsky-san one day sitting his apprentice down for tea just as he came in from the frost, and told Yuri that he would be retiring and moving back to Piter to be the tutor to Lord Yuri Feltsman, and would he like to take over the bookshop from him?

Yuri almost had a panic attack at the prospect of his mentor leaving. Worse, leaving for another territory, where it would be impossible to ask for his advice in their cases or how to handle a client, or what to do when there was a mix-up with the book orders or... or...  _or!_

Plisetsky-san wrote back to Lilia and said it would take him a few months to settle his affairs. He did not mention how his apprentice knew how to do everything that he was worried about, but he did write that Tosuu-kun would do very well indeed.

Unfortunately for Yuri, this letter was read out at breakfast, and Yurio's head immediately popped up. "Tosuu?" His green eyes widened. "The figure skater?!"

At the other end of the table, Victor froze.  _Der'mo..._

* * *

To be continued...


	17. XXXVII-XXXIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologise for the delay, however... two very important things happened that have demanded my time and attention.
> 
> I became an aunt.
> 
> And I got accepted to join a TEFL internship in Thailand.
> 
> [Does an exceptionally happy dance]
> 
> Hopefully the first chunk of this one will make up for the wait ;-)
> 
> Also, the fantastic Dude has made more art for me!  
> http://simplyharr.tumblr.com/post/181152066512/scene-from-the-latest-chapter-in-keikatayamas
> 
> How kawaii is that?!?! :-D

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Victor paced.

It was an enormous risk... but it was just too tempting.

* * *

XXXVII

* * *

" _Vi... a-oooh..._ "

The sound Victor made in return was a little harder to put into coherent syllables.

It was a couple of days after Yule; their anniversary, if you will. In Piter, people were preparing to celebrate the New Year in a few days, in keeping with the standard calendar observed by the Imperial Court, but in Hasetsu the fireworks would not be lit for another couple of weeks still, waiting for the first New Moon. And meanwhile, in Kara, with winter starting to tighten its grip, the bamboo stubbornly holding on to its leaves whilst all the other trees were naked of their leaves and colourless for it... very different fireworks were going off.

Since it had started getting significantly colder, Yuri had brought down a blanket, and he and Victor would snuggle together under it for warmth on the couch, either sat up or sprawled across it, kissing and talking, talking and kissing. One day they had even napped there, wrapped up together, barely aware that Makkachin had jumped up next to them and was 'guarding' them. Whilst snoozing too; dogs were good at multi-tasking like that.

The cushion was a regular addition. On this occasion however...

Maybe it was because it was Yule. Or Victor's birthday, which they hadn't been able to be together for as Victor had his duties with his family. Or maybe it was because - and they were both very aware of it - a year since they had properly met, something that they had both told each other they wanted to mark.

 _"Everything changed when you flew in with Makkachin,"_ Yuri said shyly, hugging Victor tightly.  _"I want to... it's important, you know?"_

Victor had hugged him back just as tightly, nodding into Yuri's hair.  _"It is. I do know."_

Or maybe it was just because the blanket  _changed_ things a little.

Lately, when the cushion was 'needed', they... didn't use it. The first time after Yuri's birthday that things had become heated Victor had carefully, subtly just reached over, not pausing his kiss on Yuri's pulse, picked up the cushion blindly and fitted it between their hips without saying a word, waited for Yuri to give some kind of acknowledgement -  _"oh"_ was as good as Yuri could manage, staring at the cushion at his groin that he himself didn't need yet - and then nudged back in for another kiss tentatively, giving Yuri time to pull away if he wanted. Yuri certainly didn't, but...  _"are you sure?"_

Victor had smiled shyly and nodded, the tip of his nose brushing Yuri's, and reached in to carry on kissing him. And tried his upmost to not grind into the cushion. He couldn't help but giggle when Yuri groaned into their kiss after less than a minute and readjusted his own hips,  _pressing_ into the cushion.

There were little advancements, over time. One evening Victor tugged Yuri in tighter against him, his hand dipping over the curves of Yuri's behind, both squeezing the cushion. Another Yuri adjusted his leg so that his foot was hooked round the back on his knee, and moaned as Victor dragged his fingers over his leg, tugging it up higher, gripping Yuri's thigh. One very famished afternoon Yuri climbed on to Victor's lap, the pair of them both yanking the cushion out from between the two of them, and kissed and writhed against each other until... until...

This was the problem. At some point, it all got a bit too uncomfortable; either they'd get too nervous to seize that spark they were straining for, or things would get too itchy and sensitive in their clothes, with seemingly no viable solution. This - grinding fully clothed against each other and kissing like men starved of it - was the closest to the line that they had braved. To a certain extent, they were both too shy and/or nervous to contemplate where the line could be re-drawn.

Until their anniversary, when Yuri at least found himself a little braver.

"V-Victor?" Yuri mumbled against the corner of Victor's mouth, pressing a kiss there. Victor hummed in answer, lining up their lips properly for the return, eyes closed in bliss. Yuri fought for his own concentration, all too tempted to just bask in Victor's kisses and not take a step forward into the unknown. "May I... may I try something?"

Pleasantly intrigued, Victor pulled back just enough to gaze adoringly at Yuri's pink cheeks, glasses off and eyes naked, contentedly hooded. It didn't occur to Victor to be cautious at all, only curious. He nodded easily. "Try what?"

Yuri gulped. Ah... he hadn't quite thought this through properly. Victor's brow furrowed with confusion and Yuri immediately darted in with another kiss to iron it out, and to buy time.  _It'll be alright_...

The hand he had on Victor's cheek slid down to Victor's chest, hesitating there as Victor gave a happy moan and peeled out of the kiss to instead kiss his forehead to Yuri's, wondering again what Yuri wanted to do. They both watched as Yuri's hand disappeared under the blanket tucked around them, his finger tips brushing gently over Victor's torso, lower and lower as Victor's eyes widened and widened, until -

Victor's mind went blank as the tips of Yuri's fingers found his cock through his trousers. Yuri's hand froze there, his cheeks flaming and he looked anywhere but at Victor's face for as long as he could put it off, but -  _what if he doesn't like this?!_ \- he looked anyway.

Victor wasn't - _couldn't_ - blinking, his mouth fallen open, the blue of his eyes swallowed by his pupils. Yuri panicked. "Is... is this alright?"

Victor finally breathed, and focus returned to his eyes, though Yuri shivered under the intensity of it. "Yu..." Victor couldn't even say his name, his breath catching. Then he nodded, so subtly that Yuri wasn't certain and kept still, until Victor keened and moved his hips into Yuri's hand and he nodded again.  _Whatever you're planning on doing, d_ _on't stop_...

Yuri nodded back nervously, swallowed and looked down again, not that he could see even his elbow under the blanket. He focused -  _no going back now_ \- and let his eyes close as Victor kissed his forehead. As Yuri's fingers stroked downwards, blind and unsure, Victor let out a gasp the calibre of which Yuri had never heard, from anyone.

Yuri blushed as his mind made sense of what his hand could feel; through the soft fabric of Victor's trousers, his cock was... if Yuri hadn't have known what he was searching for, he would have struggled to identify which limb it was. The poke against Yuri's palm as he cupped Victor's groin was insistent, like if he tried to poke it back into submission it would refuse, not that Yuri wanted to do that. Instead he experimentally outlined what he could feel with his fingers, trying to feel out what he could do that would make Victor feel good.

It didn't take long at all for him to realise that he wasn't really getting anywhere; no matter how much Victor ground into his hand - or rather, tried not to - it was too teasing, so much that Victor even told him.

"Yu- _Yuri_... just... stop _teasing_..." Victor said, his face pink and turned into the cushion they were both pillowing their heads on. He moaned aloud when Yuri brushed his palm down the shaft, trying to curve his fingers around his cock through his trousers. The cotton was too much in the way, too restrictive.  _I need... I need..._

Yuri's fingers dragged his fingers back up, up too high, to - Victor's eyes flew open as he realised.

"May I?" Yuri gasped against Victor's cheek. He was trying not to wriggle in his hakama, nearly as affected as Victor was without even being touched.

" _Ye... yes... oh god..._ "

Yuri fumbled with the buttons of Victor's fly, cursing under his breath as he struggled with the catches, took a deep breath and slid his hand in, his eyes widening as he felt Victor's skin.

" _Hah!_ "

Victor's head fell back as he gasped for breath, chest heaving as he tried to control himself. It was impossible... Yuri's hand felt cool on his flesh, fingers finally finding grip as Yuri started to pump his hand over Victor's cock, too reminiscent of what Victor would do himself for relief in his bed in Piter and with a surety that could only come from finally being able to do what Yuri had planned all along. Yuri's touch was gentle, careful and steady, as though he was trying to avoid a familiar chafing from gripping too tightly, and with a hand too dry for the task. Now that he had access, Yuri could focus on pleasuring Victor without the impediment of his clothes, and he shuffled closer to press his torso to Victor's, kissing Victor's face, his neck, never pausing his hand.

"Oh  _God_...  _Yu-Yuri_..." Victor moaned, trying to catch Yuri's lips with his own, anything to calm the intensity of Yuri's touch.

Yuri very willingly kissed him, at first chastely and then very much not, swallowing Victor's gasps and moans. "Is this alright?" He asked quietly, smiling slightly as Victor answered with a clipped gasp, past the point of words. "If it gets too much, stop me, it's alright to stop -"

" _Don't you_ dare _stop, Yuri_."

Yuri's eyes widened before crinkling with satisfaction, feeling somewhat  _proud_. He had no intention of stopping, if he could help it. He still couldn't see anything - wasn't quite brave enough to lift the blanket away - but now that the buttons were undone... it was  _so_ much easier. This was what he had in mind, something that felt vaguely familiar to how he would touch himself, the pad of his thumb guiding the way, yet...

Not having the answering sensation his own hand gave was... strange; it meant he noticed the softness of Victor's skin more. Victor's cock was different in girth to his own as well, in ways that made him blush frantically as he thought of them. But no matter how peculiar it was to perform similar hand movements that were satisfying for himself, albeit at a different angle and without the satisfaction, it was  _intoxicating_ watching Victor's reactions, how he would throw his head back to moan like he was in agony, and then in the next second burrowed into Yuri's shoulder, his whimpers close and for only Yuri to hear. He'd never known anything like it, couldn't believe that this was happening, that  _he was making this happen_.

And then...

"Yu... Yuri,  _please_... I want to -" Victor's hand - his left, and he was right handed, lying on his right side with his arm caught under Yuri - snatched out under the blanket and fumbled around the obi trying to find the knot. He swore under his breath as his fingers struggled with the folds of the obi in the intricate knot. "Yuri,  _der'mo_...  _want-to-touch-you-too, want-to-touch-you-too_ , please..."

Yuri gave a moan in Victor's cheek, wanting nothing more, and grimaced as he quickly pried his hand out of Victor's trousers to help with the obi, loosening the ties for Victor awkwardly, and then -

" _Kuso! Vi-Victor!_ "

Yuri really got it then. He understood why Takeshi and Yuuko hadn't waited for marriage to be intimate with each other. He understood with sympathy why men paid to be allowed entrance to certain places in Kara that no one ever mentioned but everyone knew about. But above all... he understood that Victor's long, cool, soft fingers belonged on his cock.  _Only his_.

Meanwhile... Victor thought Yuri looked...  _incredible_. He'd done that, made Yuri's mouth drop open to moan and gasp and beg for air, made Yuri's eye flutter and close and roll back and squint back at him, looking like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, what Victor was making him feel. With Yuri distracted, Victor was free to focus on how beautiful Yuri had become, looking so...  _taken_. He wanted more. He wanted to make Yuri feel like this more, feel more than this, to make him feel -

He moaned loudly when Yuri frowned and surged forwards, kissing Victor messily and shoved his hand back into Victor's trousers where it ought to be, and the two drove each other to insanity.

It was wonderful. They had never loved each other more than when they trusted each other like this. They raced each other to and over the edge.

" _Yuri! Please! Don't... oh god... oh god-oh god, please don't stop, please don't stop..._ "

" _Vi-shimatta-Victor... Victor!_ "

Victor's orgasm was like a storm; like clouds sparking and rolling overhead, but not yet striking. Yuri almost stopped moving his hand just to watch it all unfold upon Victor's face, but he didn't, he  _couldn't_ , he was the one making Victor's eyes widen with dawning comprehension, he was the one filling Victor's face with  _awe_ , then with bliss that nearly looked agonising, so overwhelming that Victor's hand on Yuri's cock faltered, twitched and then quickly let go, fisting the obi instead so he didn't squeeze Yuri unpleasantly. " _Please..._ " Victor whispered, though what he was begging for Yuri wasn't entirely sure because then lightning struck.

Victor's entire body shuddered as he cried out - nearly whimpered helplessly - in pleasure, and Yuri startled slightly as he felt the familiar sticky aftermath spill out around his hand somewhere under the blanket. Victor's hips, which hadn't been able to stay still through the entirety, rolling gently to meet Yuri's hand, stuttered and jolted to chase the thunder as it rolled through Victor's body until he was left a mess of heaving lungs, racing pulse, and jelly limbs. That was nothing on Victor's  _face_...

Flushed. Sweaty. Lax. Mindless. Totally, totally gone. And the sight of it, of Victor so affected, for Yuri... was instantaneously addictive. And...

It looked  _right_. This was _his_ , this was  _Yuri's_. Only Yuri was meant to make Victor look and feel like this.

Yuri smiled at that thought, and retracted his hand from Victor's clothing, grimacing a little at the stickiness of his hand. He shuffled forward to nuzzle at Victor's nose, and wrapped the blanket tighter around his lover as best as he could with just the pinch of his clean fingers. Victor gave a low, contented hum and reached forward the rest of the way to kiss Yuri, eagerly met. "How do you feel?" Yuri asked shyly, lips still pressed against Victor's.

Victor opened his eyes sleepily and - Yuri felt it against his own lips - grinned in a heart-shape. He nodded, his nose teasing Yuri's. "I'm trying to remember how to say... 'sugoi'?"

Yuri gave a burst of laughter, rolling away so he didn't spit in Victor's face. "That's... haha... that's good." He looked over at Victor with great affection as he calmed. "I'm... I'm glad."

Victor giggled happily, and then frowned. "You haven't..." Oh. No, he hadn't. Yuri had been very well distracted from his own pleasure by Victor's that had been swiftly arriving. Victor hooked his ankle round Yuri's under the blanket, gave him a pointed tug. "Yuuuuuri. Come back here..."

It was a little awkward, trying to remember not to use his soiled fingers, particularly as the first thing Yuri wanted to do, when Victor kissed him again, was to hold on to him. But then Victor's hand was back in his hakama, and Yuri struggled to remember to do anything but  _feel_.

Victor's fingers felt so good... did everyone's fingers feel like this, Yuri wondered in the depths of his mind, the last corners that were still capable of something resembling rationality. No, Yuri thought. That's not possible. And that thought required nothing more.

"Victor... so go-od..."

At his jaw, where Victor was happily placing kisses, Yuri felt his wide grin. "That's good," Victor teased, and nipped closer to Yuri's ear to whisper, "I'm  _glad_..." And he slipped his hand further down on the stroke back to the base of him, making Yuri's eyes widen.

" _Victor_! Don't... ah... don't tease... don't tease..." He reached into his hakama to find Victor's hand, making Victor pause uncertainly, and then guided Victor's hand, up and down, up and down, just a bit tighter, squeeze just there, just -  _kuso_...

Yuri came with a loud cry, not in the slightest able to hold back his voice, and he nearly sobbed as Victor's hand continued to stroke him through the aftershocks, the pleasure sparking back through him in oversensitive echoes. Vaguely Yuri was aware of Victor kissing his face over and over, a little like a cat grooming a mate, whilst Yuri struggled to get his breath back. He rolled forward, banging his head into Victor's chest, making his lover laugh, earning him kisses into his hair too.

Yes. Just yes, to everything. To everything that they had just done, and everything that this could lead to... _just yes_.

Victor giggled into his hair. "Are you falling asleep, Yuri?"

Yuri opened his eyes into the dark of Victor's shirt, and groaned. "Nooo..." Victor laughed outright, leaking light into Yuri's eyes as his torso shook with mirth. Yuri slowly lifted his head up, and smiled at the heart-shape grin that he adored so much. "Th-Thank you..."

Victor blinked down at him for a moment, and giggled again. "You're welcome? I feel rude now, was I supposed to say that first?" He lifted a finger - a soiled finger, blood rushing up to Yuri's cheeks - to his chin to think. "Seems strange saying 'thank you' for that." Then he frowned and grimaced at his hand as he realised what he'd just done. "Umm..."

Yuri looked away to Victor's chest, blushing wildly. "D-Do you want to wash your hand-s?" He flinched internally at the awkward added 's' he'd stuck on the end, it being too strange and unfamiliar to use the singular in such a phrase.

"Hmm, yes." Victor waited.

"Right, ē to... ano, if you use the washroom upstairs, I'll... I'll sort myself out down here," Yuri stammered over. That sounded like a plan, a good plan.

"Alright." Victor giggled teasingly. "Did you want to get up first? I'm stuck."

So he was; Yuri was almost lying on top of him on the couch, legs entangled. Yuri started and sat up, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but overridden by... he turned away from Victor, holding on to the blanket to keep his lap covered, and tried his best to tighten up his hakama, flinching as his sticky hand fumbled as he tried not to stain the fabric even more than it was. Oh Gods... he needed to change, needed to clean up, what would Victor think of him being such a mess,  _oh gods what would his guardians think if they were_ -

Totally unperturbed and not aware of Yuri's rising panic, Victor swung his legs over the edge of the couch, buttoning up his trousers with far less concern, and quickly pecked a kiss into Yuri's cheek as he got up - "I'll be right back" - and disappeared upstairs. Yuri waited a second, and then got up too, slowly and ambled to the kitchen sink. When he ran the tap over his fingers, flinching at how cold the water was, Yuri tried not to shake, and tilted his head back, commanding himself not to cry.

 _Don't you dare feel sad. You know what this is; you've soared too high, and now you're crashing. It's fine, there's nothing wrong, this is... this is just 'normal'. You're alright. Just... just don't worry Victor, it wouldn't be fair, he's been so good -_ so  _good, oh Gods - so just... just keep going. Just keep going._

 _Go wash your hands,_ _Yuri-chan._

He did, shuddering at the freezing water as he rinsed the suds of the soap off.

_Good. Now, go upstairs and get some fresh clothes._

He took a deep breath and turned off the tap, remembering to give it a decent twist so it didn't drip - Phichit always used to forget, it would drive Guang Hong spare - and tiptoed upstairs. On the landing he spotted the missing bracket where there was usually a candle, and the faint glow under the bottom of the washroom door. Outside the closed door Makkachin was sprawled, but he huffed happily at the sight of Yuri and clambered to his paws and followed him into his bedroom to the chest where Yuri kept his clothes. Yuri stroked his head absentmindedly and pulled out a fresh yukata -

"Yuri?"

Yuri started and turned back. Light spilled out with a flicker into the hallway from the open bathroom door just out of sight. "Victor...?"

"Umm... can I borrow some clothes? Mine are a bit of a mess."

Instantly Yuri remembered Victor's face as he came, the splash on his fingers, and blushed. "O-Of course..." He turned back to the chest, to the sight of Makkachin with his paws up on the lip of the chest and nosing at the folded items within with curiosity, tail wagging. Makkachin looked up at Yuri, caught and not remotely ashamed, and the dog licked Yuri's hand as he stroked him affectionately. There had been enough slobber on clothes today.

Yuri picked out a kimono at random - a charcoal-grey one - and an obi and placed it outside the bathroom door, praying that Victor wouldn't open the door and see him, or worse open the door needing the kimono immediately, and scarpered back to his room.

Makkachin tilted his head inquisitively, as if to ask... 'what's up with you?' Yuri knew what, per se, but... but...

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Victor was procrastinating, as he felt that his options were limited. It was either procrastinate, or... or think about the fact that he had no idea how to feel.

He'd been about to stare at himself hard in the mirror, to really look at himself and find some kind of illumination, but there weren't any. Looking upon one's reflection was not something that was really a token of society outside of the upper classes, who spent their wealth on being beautiful and other things of beauty. Mirrors were a part of a status symbol, were an expensive commodity of glass and metal and frame, and whilst Victor needed one in his life to look the part of Lord Victor Feltsman, Tosuu Yuri just needed to be hygienic and neat, which he could check directly.

All the same... being able to ask something of himself would have made Victor feel a little bit better in that moment of time. So he thought of whispering to the candle instead, the one he'd taken from the landing, but when he opened his mouth... Victor had no idea what to ask, or what to confess.

He thought of Christophe, of the men that Christophe would vanish with when they frequented their favourite haunts in Piter. Was this what Christophe had been pursuing, because if it was, Victor finally  _really_ understood why. He'd known this pleasure for years by his own hand, but with another's... with Yuri's soft fingers... it was so much more intense. There was vulnerability in it too though, giving one's control of one's body to another, for them to manipulate it out of him. The last time Victor had felt vulnerable like that... was this the kind of thing the stable boy had been after?

Would Yuri want... _that_... from him?

Victor was instantly angry with himself. How many times had he told himself never to compare Yuri with that... with  _him_ before? There was no comparison. What Yuri had done to Victor, on his couch in front of the fire in the main room of his cottage, tucked under a blanket for warmth was... so mindbogglingly different. His kisses were loving, generous and accepted freely, and his touch was... God. Victor never wanted to be touched, to be handled the way the stable boy had. But Yuri...  _please_.  _Please touch me again like that._

_I want more of whatever Yuri will give me, for with Yuri, there will never be comparison._

With that thought, Victor rushed to the door, wrenched it open and spied the clothes Yuri had left for him just outside, grabbed them and shut the door again for his privacy. He smiled instantly at the kimono Yuri had picked for him -  _Yuri, we must see about introducing some_ colour _to your wardrobe_ \- and practically threw his clothes off to wrap himself in the soft cotton. He was instantly reminded of the Sakura Festival, and of the Bonfire Night they had gone to just before Yuri's birthday. He was reminded too of the welcomes he would always receive on the few occasions he'd visited Hasetsu. He remembered watching his socks dry by the fire, not all that long ago, after the only kiss that counted as his first - the first he willingly gave - and thought of nothing bad at all.

Clothed and decent, Victor rushed out, laughed happily at the sight of Makkachin waiting for him on the landing, wagging his tail, and the two darted back downstairs to find Yuri.

He was putting away the bowls they'd used to eat rice in earlier for lunch, his back to Victor. He had changed too, into a kimono as well, no hakama. Victor didn't notice how Yuri didn't turn to him as he approached, Victor's momentum carrying him forward until he was wrapping his arms round Yuri, snuggling into him. " _Kimono o arigatō_ ," he said in his best Katsukan.

There was a pause, which was when Victor realised that all was not quite as well as he thought, and then Yuri chortled and turned in Victor's arms, hugging him back, hiding his face into Victor's collar. " _Dōitashimashite_."

"... What's that one, again?"

Yuri burst out laughing, and Victor beamed, feeling triumphant as he always did when he could get Yuri to laugh like this. As Yuri's chuckles peeled off he looked up at Victor with such happy awe that Victor worried a little less, but didn't stop. "Are you alright,  _dorogoy_?" It wasn't often that Victor used such sweeting terms; he had few prior examples.

Yuri frowned curiously at the Northern word, but nodded, looking... he looked tired. " _Gomē_ , Victor, I... sometimes..." Yuri hesitated, biting his lip, and then he leaned forward back into Victor's embrace where he was safest. "I'm so happy, Victor... I've never been so happy. But... sometimes it gets a bit too much, and it... it drains me. Does... does that make sense?"

 _Oh, my darling Yuri..._ Victor wrapped him up, making Yuri sigh with relief for not being pushed away, and rocked them both gently. "Yes, yes it does."

_I love you so much. So, so much. Thank you... thank you for holding on to me, and never letting go._

Victor pressed a kiss into Yuri's forehead, murmured against his skin. "Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?" He could feel Yuri drifting off in his arms, could feel the tension evaporating like steam from a bath.

Yuri shook his head fractionally. "No... it's too early. Just... talk to me?"

"About anything in particular?"

"No, just... let me listen to your voice, so that I have to pay attention."

Victor chuckled at that. "I'm glad to know you don't find me boring," he teased.

Seriously, Yuri shook his head again. "Never."

Touched, Victor kissed his forehead again. "Alright. But let's sit down again."

He let go of Yuri, rubbing his lover's arms to warm him, and led him back to the couch by his hand, smiling when Yuri yawned on the way. He settled back on to the couch, gently pulled Yuri back into his arms and shuffled about to get comfortable, and tucked the blanket back around him, and tried to think of things to say as Yuri snuggled under his chin.

He thought immediately of his brother, of Yura and his fuming over the last month. His younger brother had not taken well to the news that he was going to have some distant relative come to teach him -  _"he's an accountant, what does he know of anything?"_ Yura had spat scathingly, and Victor had rolled his eyes out of sight, biting his tongue given that his lover was said accountant's protege - but Yura was somewhat more distracted by the knowledge that Tosuu Yuri worked for his great uncle.

 _"Get him to come as well."_ Yura had insisted.

 _"Who?"_ Their father had raised his eyebrow, disgruntled at his younger son's spoiltness.

Yura had seethed that his father clearly hadn't been paying that much attention.  _"Tosuu Yuri, the_ skater _."_

_"The what?"_

Young Yuri had given an exasperated groan, at which Lady Lilia also raised an eyebrow, quelling Yura's bad behaviour. Watching, Victor had tried not to smirk a little, as he always did when Lilia managed to accomplish a great deal by doing so very little.

_"The skater, father, from the Yule Festival."_

_"Oh."_ Even as Victor's stomach churned, he smiled a little with relief as he realised that Yakov hadn't remembered the star amateur skater who had wowed the crowd at the opening of the Yule Festival nearly a year ago.  _"Why do you want him to come here, Yuri?"_

Yura bit down on something he knew he shouldn't say - namely an insult targeting Yakov's intelligence - and ground out what he needed to say.  _"To teach me to skate, father."_

Silence. What Lady Lilia and Lord Yakov thought of that suggestion was written all over their faces, and Victor tried not to sigh with relief.

 _"Why would we -?"_ Yakov had started, but Yura interrupted him.

 _"Why_ not _?"_ He said angrily. _"Mama taught Victor to skate, so why can't I have someone to teach me?!"_

 _"You_ do _, Yura,"_ Lady Lilia said icily, and gestured to her stepson.  _"I did teach Victor, so now he teaches you -"_

Yuri snorted. That was enough to convey what he thought of that.

Victor bristled.  _"Yurio,_ you're _the one that refuses to pay attention to what I -"_

 _"I don't_ want _to be taught by Victor,"_ Yura said, and he looked away with a slight blush.  _"Victor's... Victor's fine, but... I want to be taught by the best._ He's _the best, the best I've ever seen. I want to be taught to be even better. By him, Tosuu Yuri."_

There was silence again, which told Yura everything. Without a word he stomped away from the breakfast table, and refused to come out of his room for several days.

Victor had hoped that that was the end to it. He didn't hear anything further, but then he'd never really made his half-brother's education his business, so no one would have thought to consult him on it. So then the next thing he heard about it was from Christophe.

_"Did you hear that our little kitten has struck a bargain over his skating instructor?"_

Victor had spat out the beer he'd just been glugging, and stared at Christophe in horror, not remotely concerned of the impression he'd just made in the tavern.  _"B-Bargain?"_

Christophe pointed wiped his face, not that it needed it, and chuckled awkwardly at the look on Victor's face.  _"Yes, did they not tell you? Yurio's got Yakov to agree to take on the new tutor's apprentice to do skating lessons, in exchange for his good behaviour."_

 _No. Der'mo,_ no _..._

By the time Victor knew of this bargain - he'd thought that Yurio had finally come out of his room because he'd gotten bored - a letter was already on its way to Kara, addressed to one Tosuu Yuri of Plisetsky's Accountancy and Bookstore, and -

_"No!"_

And Yuri had declined. At first in desperate panic, then with shy politeness. Plisetsky-san hadn't pressed him at all - when Yuri showed him the letter his reaction was an unimpressed snort - not even particularly over -

_"I didn't know you skated, Tosuu-kun."_

Nearly smudging figures for the Nishigori family's accounts, Yuri had plastered a fake smile on his face, the best he could pull off.  _"Umm, a little, I guess? There's, umm, a lake that I go to... it's... err... soothing..."_

To Yuri's relief, he hadn't needed to say much more than that; Plisetsky-san was not the type to pry, particularly when it was patently obvious that Yuri didn't want him to. Yuri had sat on his rising panic for the rest of the day, hoping that Victor would come that night, and when he did -

_"Yuri! Did you get my father's letter? I'm so sorry, Yuri, I'm so sorry, I didn't know that they were going to -"_

Yuri didn't tell Victor that... actually... it was tempting... just to go to Piter. Just to go to the Great Palace of Piter, and... see where his lover lived. But also...

_"It's an insane idea!"_

Victor hadn't thought so harshly, and told Yuri so -  _"I'm almost jealous of Yura, I wish I could have been able to ask for a skating instructor like you,"_ Victor had said earnestly, and then leaned in to tease too.  _"I would have had_ such _a crush on my teacher, I'm not sure I would have landed my jumps correctly..."_

_"Victor!"_

In any case, Yuri wasn't remotely tempted to be in any kind of employment to the Feltsman family, let alone teach young Lord Yuri Feltsman how to skate - which seemed unfathomable to Yuri - and had asked Plisetsky-san to reply, as his employer, his honoured decline.

Yurachka had not been happy. He was still being sour about it, though he didn't say anything.  _"I don't think anyone that mattered to him has ever really said 'no' to him,"_ Victor had commented to Yuri, thinking aloud in the safety of his lover's embrace.

Yuri had frowned.  _"But... I'm nobody..."_

Victor had frowned too, but angrily.  _"You're_ not _nobody. You're_ not _."_ He'd softened and squeezed Yuri's hand in his.  _"You inspired him, Yuri. You inspired_  me _,_ _too. You're not nobody."_

The answer was still _'no'_ though.

 _"Then..."_ Yura had eventually pressed over breakfast recently.  _"Can you ask him to just... to just come?"_ The young boy blushed properly and refused to look at anyone.  _"I'd... I'd still like to meet him, even if he won't teach me. Please?"_

That had been more difficult to refuse. Another letter was sent, this time one that Yuri had been expecting after Victor told him about what he'd heard at breakfast, and he was delaying replying. Victor's gut told him to advise against it, but... he was tempted too. It would be extremely risky, and undoubtedly very awkward trying to conceal that he had any connection with the accountant's apprentice, but... it had never seemed entirely fair that he could never invite Yuri into his home the way that Yuri invited Victor into his. It couldn't be like that either if Yuri did come, but... but...

He still wanted Yuri to see how he lived, just as he saw how Yuri lived. And he wanted to show, as best as he could, that Yuri was the only one he loved as he did, that the distance he crossed nearly every evening was worth it.

Not that he'd told Yuri any of this. But he'd been relieved when Yuri turned to him with a shy look.  _"Can I... can I think about it?"_

 _Oh, my dear, dear Yuri... "Of course!"_ Yuri, by then, was well used to Victor using any excuse to hug him.

Since... Yuri hadn't said a thing about it, and the one time that Victor had asked, less than a week ago, he'd pretended not to hear him, and changed the subject without a hint of subtlety. So Victor was hardly going to bring it up again, even to fill a silence.

"Hmm..."

Yuri rubbed his cheek against his own kimono, and yawned, making Victor smile. He always looked so cute when he yawned. "Tell me about your plans tomorrow. Are you all packed and ready?"

"... Umm... I think so..."

Yuri giggled sleepily. " _Vi_ ctor..."

Victor blushed, modest enough and uncomfortable enough to know that what he was about to say next would be a bit awkward. "Well... the servants always sort out that kind of thing..."

Yuri's eyes opened, a lot less sleepy. "Oh..." He frowned. "That sounds... weird. What if they forgot your favourite shirt or something?"

Victor chuckled at Yuri's un-judgemental curiosity. "They never do. Besides, there's never much point when we go to Hasetsu. We always end up taking more as presents for the Katsuki family than our own clothing."

Yuri smiled and peered up at his lover's face. "How very generous of you," he teased.

Victor pinched him lightly in his sides, and whilst Yuri was used to Victor's enthusiastic embraces he was not used to the sharper teases, and winced. Victor looked contrite and soothed, and focused on explaining. "It's a tradition. We never need to take much of our own clothes because whenever we go to Hasetsu Lady Katsuki gifts us with wonderful kimonos to wear, so we don't look out of place in our Northern fashions. 'So you look like  _family_ ', she always says."

Yuri let that sink in for a moment, and then beamed. "I love that... what a lovely gesture." He laid his head back down on Victor's chest. "It makes me think of my aunt, something she said about running the onsen. She said that regular guests are given their own jinbei to wear on the premises, and my aunt, uncle and cousin wear something similar; the same material but a specific colour so guests know who to ask for service. It's meant to show to new clients how strong their base of customers are, that people keep coming back, and to the regulars that their custom is appreciated. It's an exceptional honour, when a guest is presented with their own colour to always wear."

Victor peered at the ceiling for a moment, carefully considering whether or not he should ask his next question, but realised that he wouldn't know if it really was a bad question until he asked. "Have you ever been to your family's onsen?"

Yuri was unnaturally quiet and still. Then he adjusted his head on Victor's chest, swallowing hard. "No... never. I... I was always told that the business was too... that they were struggling, and that I would be a... well, a..."  _Nuisance, hinderance, irritant, intruder_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied, words that no one had never used aloud, but... what's they meant, wasn't it? He would have been in the way, and a drain of what little they had. They had struggled for so many years, and whilst his aunt, uncle and cousin had always tried to be generous, overly so sometimes... he always was under the impression that they gave more than they could afford, as though they were always worried they'd regret giving him so much. All the food they brought, all the produce from Aunt Hirokei's garden; Yuri was very, very grateful but... he hated taking from them when all he wanted to do was give it back. Even his first skates, donated from Cousin Mariko's friend, felt over-charitable, as though he did not deserve them. So he'd dedicated so much time and energy trying to be worthy of them, worthy of the ice Phichit gave him, worthy of the notes that Mariko's friend sent through her. It had been such a relief to buy his own from his own wages from the bookshop... he earned those, at no one else's expense.

"Yuri?" Yuri blinked, pulled himself from his thoughts, and lifted his head just as Victor leaned down to kiss his hair, so they met at his hairline. "Did you... did you ever want to go?"

Yuri thought... had he? "I... I never wanted to... I never wanted to be a bother." Victor's embrace tightened a little. "And... they would come here, as frequently as they could. And they're... well, they're only my aunt and uncle and cousin, they're not... they're not my mother and father, so... I never thought..." He grimaced, realising, now that he was saying these thoughts he'd had for years out loud... how unjust they were. Hirokei, Toshiryu and Mariko were warm, loving people. They were _family_ , all he had by blood. There was no 'only' about it. "I never thought that things needed to be different. Not... not properly, anyway. My guardians have always made sure I had what I needed, that I was never... well, that I was never spoilt. I always thought that maybe my guardians had more to offer than... well, than my family."

He trailed off into silence, deep in thought. What would life have really been like, if Yuri had lived as the adopted son of onsen owners in the Katsuki capital? Poorer, perhaps, but... would he have been less happy for it? With family like Hirokei, Toshiryu and Mariko... he doubted it.

"Gomen."

Yuri frowned and brought himself back to an ashamed Victor. "Eh? Why?"

"I... I shouldn't have pried."

Yuri's eyes widened.  _No... no, Victor_. He shook his head and shuffled up, took Victor's face in his palm and kissed their foreheads together. "Don't be foolish. You can ask me anything. And..." He gulped, hoping he would stand by this promise. "And I'll always try to answer."

Victor's eyes flickered up and focused on Yuri. "Truly?"

Yuri nodded, and steeled. He was a smart boy; he knew what was coming.

"Then... can I..." Victor swallowed, and started again. "Do you... do you  _want_ to come to Piter with Plisetsky-san?"

_... I shouldn't..._

"... Hai..."

* * *

XXXVIII

* * *

There were a few things that made Lord Yakov Feltsman feel old. Some of them were highly efficient.

His second son, his little terror Yura, could make him feel old almost every hour. His first born, his Vitya, had a slightly better rate; at least once a day. His wife Lilia too showed slight improvement on Victor, but at least she knew her husband so well that she would then scold the feeling out of him.  _"Old? Bah! You are an alpha amongst men! No younger man deserves a comparison,"_ she would tell him. He would give a brisk nod, saying she was quite right... and then he'd lament his hairline in the privacy of the bathroom. Where she would still catch him, and scold him some more for his vanity.

But he had never thought that Lord Toshiya Katsuki, one of the most jovial men he knew and almost certainly one of the best men he would ever know, was one of those who made Lord Yakov feel old. Indeed, usually it was the opposite effect, even though he'd known him since they were teenagers.

Until he stepped out of the carriage at the top of the long steep driveway to the great doors of Hasetsu Castle, where his friend waited for him in the light snow, along with the entire household and court. And a walking cane, and a considerable amount more grey hair, white hair even, and a lot less weight.

Toshiya was younger than Yakov. How was it that he looked so much older?

It had been some time since Yakov had seen Toshiya. Given their positions, visiting each other was not easily arranged; neither possessed the luxury of being able to leave their courts for long. The last time had been a couple of years ago, in Urajio; the time before that had been Dazaifu; that way, they both travelled equal distance to see each other, and each took it in fair turn to host the other on the banks of the Ribenhai. Yet whilst they might not have seen each other face-to-face, letters were always going back and forth from each other, letters that were written separately from the business of the clans. One day their grandchildren would read those letters and wistfully remember the very honest and true depth of friendship between these two very different men.

These are some examples:

When Victor was a toddler, seemingly forever smiling and running around excitedly until he would suddenly stop, yawn and nap wherever he'd paused, Yakov drew a sketch of his beautiful little boy, playing with his favourite plush toy - Victor was too young to remember perhaps, but Yakov picked out Makkachin very specifically - and grinning that wonderful heart-shaped smile he had. Yakov sent the sketch to his friend instead of keeping it; he'd drawn it, amateur as it was but accomplished enough, specifically for Toshiya and Hiroko to coo over, knowing they wouldn't get to see Victor so young and small.

Over twenty years ago, when Toshiya first moved his family into the clan leader's private apartments of the Hasetsu Castle, he wrote to Yakov about all of his worries. About their real, actual safety there, amongst all of these courtiers who couldn't be trusted as far as he could throw them. He wrote about how he was afraid that his daughter wouldn't like it, or maybe like it _too_ much, this sudden substantial change in their lifestyle, or that Hiroko would miss her family home. He wrote that he was afraid none of them would be happy in the castle, that maybe they ought to eschew tradition and return to their former home. He confessed that he felt guilty for uprooting them all, and for what? Power? Wealth? Some sense of loyalty, duty? He was so afraid that it would all be for nothing, that he would regret it far more than not.

The immediate next letter, written within a minute of Yakov reading the last and sent not even five minutes after that at speed, said simply this;  _I understand, truly. No matter what, I will back you; this I swear to you, my friend._

Another was written on the road from Turicum; Yakov had just visited his Vitya for the first time at his boarding school. Even though the letter showed where there had been potholes and the tones in the ink revealed where Yakov had paused to calm himself, he sent it anyway, and after Toshiya read it he quietly insisted to his wife on visiting Kara as soon as they could arrange it.

When Lady Mari declared that she wanted to learn how to defend herself, her father fretted for several pages. And then started the same letter again a few days later, gushing over how hard she was working to improve her skills.

After Victor returned from Turicum, and soon after descended into mysterious melancholy, Yakov spoke to only three people about it; his wife, the physician, and Toshiya in a letter which took a very long time to write.  _I fear I may have failed Talia, my friend. I promised I'd look after our boy, but he is_ miserable _. I keep pausing to realise that I've been asking myself if I have been like my father after all... it is painful, reminding myself that I am being unfair to myself, and yet all this while as I pity myself my Vitya is still locked in his room and will not tell me why. I don't know what to do, my friend. I love my boy, and I fear I might have lost him._

The answer was written with more careful deliberation than Yakov's answer years before, but it was longer;  _Yakov-kun... you know me. I do not pretend to a wise man. But I'm very lucky because my wife is a wise woman, and she ensured our daughter is too, so I spoke to her. And Mari said this; 'O_ _tou-san... I love you, but there are some things that I'd really rather never talk to you about. Just like there are things you really don't ever want to talk to me about, yes? Victor's sixteen, he's growing up now, so of course he's going to have some secrets. I would say that the worst that Yakov could do would be to_ force _Victor to share his secrets... if Victor needs to tell him, or wants to tell him, he will, in his own time and in his own way. Tell Yakov not to worry; you should see how proud of him Victor is in his letters to me.' I hope this helps, my friend. If it is any consolation, it's no better having a daughter either. It seems to me that when they were little, we were the first to know everything about our children; they ran to us to tell all. Now that they're grown, we're the last... there seems to be a lot of waiting around involved, and it's no less exhausting than it was running after them when they were small and inexhaustible. So, at the end of all of that, Yakov-kun, I advise you to wait... and listen carefully when Victor does come to you. And he will, because he loves you; that's how I know you have never failed him, and how I know that you have never been anything like your own father. In the meantime however please accept the accompanying tea; it certainly helps me with the waiting._

Funny to think that when this friendship started, tea was the last thing accompanying it.

Back then they had been young men; Yakov even had a full head of hair. But after three decades of friendship... Lord Toshiya looked old. And seeing his friend look old made Lord Yakov feel old too.

"You look well, my friend," Lord Katsuki Toshiya greeted. This was actually not the first thing he said when Lord Yakov Feltsman arrived...

 _"Hurry up and get inside! We're all freezing!"_ A few of the Feltsman entourage nearly choked on their tongues. The rest knew to hold them; that was... well, that was Lord Katsuki's way. He didn't exactly stand on ceremony. Judging by the looks on his own courtiers' faces, getting him to agree to wait outside at the castle entrance to welcome the Feltsman family was as far as he would go.  _"We've all been waiting around long enough, no don't worry about your luggage, let the boys sort that out once they've warmed up first. Lilia! Welcome! No no, no curtseying, just head on in. Hiroko! Have we got the good tea ready -"_

Of all the things that Toshiya had said, herding him in by his arm, the bit that amused Yakov the most was that last. "'Good tea', Toshiya? Do you drink 'bad' tea when you have no guests?"

Toshiya just laughed. Yakov always enjoyed watching - not listening specifically, watching - Toshiya laugh; it came from his belly, rumbling through the rest of his otherwise unimposing body. It always drew Yakov's attention to Toshiya's bony shoulders, reminded him of the almost absurd juxtaposition between him and his father. The great Lord Katsuki Toshio was renown for his incredibly imposing armour, for the gigantic figure he would cut whilst surveying his army during battle... as though he had forgotten that the Feltsmans knew only too well how tiny he was underneath it. Toshiya however had never worn armour in his life, not even ceremonially.

He looked even thinner though. It would not be until the end of their trip that he would admit that he had been unwell, and it had taken its toll.

"Where's your handsome Vitya, and young Lord Giacometti, Yakov?" Toshiya finally asked. Another reason why Yakov liked him; he looked as harmless as Vitya's ridiculous dog, but was actually uncannily shrewd. He'd seen that his son was not with him as expected, that it was only Yakov, Lilia and Yura, and said nothing that might embarrass Yakov in front of the courtiers. Alone, he could ask without the politics, without people getting puffed up by the young men's absence.

Yakov only grumbled. Lilia spoke for him. "They abused your hospitality in Dazaifu, my lord, and drank the castle dry of your best sake. They will be making their own way to Hasetsu when they are sufficiently presentable."

Both Toshiya and Hiroko had only one reaction: they started laughing. "They do grow up fast!" Hiroko chuckled, and she turned to her husband. "Do you remember when Vicchan gave himself a stomach ache after he snuck into the kitchens and ate all the mochi? How their tastes change!"

Yakov smiled at that, albeit it bitterly. He hadn't been there at the time; Victor was very young at the time, just after his mother had... left. He had hoped that the visit with friends that he trusted would do Vitya some good, would take him away from the vile whisperings of the court and spare him that, at least for a while. But then Hiroko wrote, with tenderness that oozed off the page, that whilst Victor seemed happy to be with the Katsuki family, he missed his father terribly. So every time this memory was brought up - and it often was, and would make Victor laugh every time and cheekily ask for more of Hiroko's mochi - it unfailingly made Yakov remember the journey back from Hasetsu after, with his little boy beaming next to him in the carriage, telling his father everything that he had done during his stay with the Katsuki family, and how he finally fell asleep on Yakov's lap, tucked into his father's embrace.

On this occasion he also felt a bit unfair; Victor wasn't hungover at all, that he had seen that morning. Christophe however...

Yakov wondered whether to ask if Kubo-san was still in Hasetsu; he would have been part of the reception if he was, but Toshiya had herded him inside so quickly no one had time to so much as bow. But then Toshiya was leading him to the guest apartments and helping him with his kimono, and soon even Yakov thought of nothing but all the things that he loved about visiting the Katsuki family.

This was as close to a holiday or vacation as Lord Yakov Feltsman got.

* * *

XXXIX

* * *

Reader... do you ever find that, once you've committed to doing something in the future, it takes almost no time at all to arrive at that moment?

So it felt for Yuri and Victor.

The night after finally admitting that Yuri did want to see where Victor lived, they talked for a very long time, wrapped up together, trying their best to reassure each other that all would be well. Victor went home with Makkachin very late that night, and spent the journey by carriage to Urajio either asleep or deep in thought. When asked what was wrong with him, he just said he hadn't slept well. That was true at least, though he told his father it was because he was excited to see Lady Mari.

That was true too, though not to the degree that he convinced everyone else. In fact, he was a little nervous... that she would see through him.

Victor hadn't told Mari about Yuri. He hadn't really had an opportunity to; both of them had been extremely busy - Mari even took a trip to the Imperial Capital, though she had fumed in her letters to him before, during and after - and simply hadn't been able to successfully arrange to visit each other. The last time had been a flying visit - literally - when Victor decided to see if he could locate Hasetsu with Makkachin. Whilst Lady Hiroko dotted on him, having not seen him in far too long -  _"you've grown so tall and handsome! I forgot you cut your hair, it suits you so well!"_ \- Lady Mari had rolled her eyes and told him to write beforehand next time. She'd mostly been joking, but even Victor knew he'd been stretching the Katsukan hospitality by just arriving out of the blue without any purpose; at least when Lady Mari had, only a few years ago, it was with a very specific purpose.

And somehow... telling her about Yuri just never quite happened. He thought about it, but... perhaps it was because it was early days, when Yuri was just his friend, but mostly... he was afraid of it bringing up another conversation, and he'd rather that one just lie.

Mari wasn't the only one he needed to confide in. He needed to tell Yuri about the stable boy too, but... no. Some days he rather hoped he would never have to tell.

But, of course, he was not alone in keeping things close to his chest.

"You look... different, Victor," Lady Mari commented quietly. They were doing a turn about the garden, the very real produce garden that Lady Hiroko kept to grow things for her son (the official story was that everything grown there was offered to the God Mamoru, to ask for the protection of the ever-hidden Lord Katsuki Yuri), but it was dark, so Mari didn't need to bother trying to identify vegetables she didn't recognise to Victor, knowing full well that he wouldn't have a clue either. If anything they would just revert back to when they were not even half their size, and giggle over the pronunciation of 'mooli'.

Mooooooooooooooooli. Hehe.

"Different?" Victor queried innocently. He genuinely didn't know what she meant by that. "Different... in a good way? Bad way?" His hands shot up to his hairline in panic. "Is my -"

Mari swotted him round the back of his head, eyes narrowed. "Vain boy. Your hair's fine...  _for now..._ " She grinned evilly at him. He whined playfully back, but made no further comment. The joke about his father's hair, which neither of them claimed to have ever seen full, had been made several times over the years and had grown stale a while ago. They still thought of it however, smiling affectionately at memories of years of friendship. "No, not in a bad way." The teasing dropped entirely out of Lady Mari's tone. "You look happy. It seems like a long time since I've seen you happy." She frowned, the following thought left unsaid;  _a really long time, perhaps when we were children, I last saw you genuinely happy..._

Victor's reluctant response was to deflect. "I didn't know I had looked  _unhappy_."

Mari rolled her eyes, seeing right through him. "You know what I mean, Victor. Something good has happened, yes?" Victor paused for too long. "Hmm, yes." Her eyes twinkled with mirth. "What's -... hmm." She had to pause, caught. She'd been about to say the automatic joke 'what's  _her_ name', but of course, she had known for a long time that she would never ask that of Victor. The thought further soured as she remembered how she came to truly know that Victor's eyes did not seek out women, and then she frowned all the more. No, she realised. Perhaps she had always known, as it hadn't surprised her.

Though she feared that, much like her, time was running out when it wouldn't matter.

"Mari?"

Lady Mari shook herself out of her thoughts, disturbed slightly to have been caught up in them so much, and came to to find Victor at her side, looking down worriedly. She'd completely forgotten what she'd been talking about. Victor put a hand on her shoulder. "Is everything al-"

"I have some news."

Victor didn't even need to blink to see that clearly it was not good news; it was written all over her face. "Oh?"

Lady Mari have a curt nod and steeled herself. Her stomach churned, but she spoke through it nonetheless. "You know I went to the Imperial Capital recently? Gods, that was a long journey, I don't recommend it. Keep building roads, Victor; if ever you needed evidence that good roads are needed, head for the Capital."

The corner of Victor's mouth twitched up, glad that he had her approval, but not to be distracted. "I did know. What did they have to say for themselves?"

Lady Mari took a step back, paced, needing the movement to quell her nerves. "They didn't say anything so obvious, but I suspect the Bins want to restore their influence over the fringe territories. My father's going to speak with yours, but you should expect something from the Imperial Court soon."

Victor snorted derisively. "The Bins can barely keep control of the Imperial City, let alone the clan lands all the way out here. What makes them think they'd succeed in -"

"Cao Bin has made an offer for my hand."

Victor stared at his friend - his longest and best friend - in absolute horror. Lady Mari couldn't even look up, her fists clenched and shaking, fury rippling out of her like smoke from an oil fire. "No..." Victor said, feeling stupid for it but saying it anyway. "I...  _no_."

Lady Mari let go of the breath she'd been holding and finally looked up at her friend, and gave a shaky laugh. "That's... that's what I said too."

Victor stared, and then gave a bark of a laugh. He stepped forward without hesitation and wrapped her up in a relieved hug. "God, don't scare me like that."

Mari let him hug her, even hugged him back. "Oh? And what would you have done if I had said 'yes'?"

"I don't know. Kidnapped you probably, and told Bin to go hang." He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "He's...  _nothing_ good gets leaked out of the Capital about that family, Mari. The Emperor is a useless glutton, and his son is a philandering pest who ought to talk less in front of all the emissaries we all send there. The rest all seem to be useless or plot to kill each other off."

Mari chuckled humourlessly. "Hmm. Good riddance." She then patted Victor's shoulder. "Come on, silly. Let me go, I'm not going anywhere." Victor did just so with an abashed chuckle. "Besides... I made a promise."

Victor took a moment for that to sink in, and looked at her questioningly. "A promise?"

She just smiled, and deflected. "You know that at one time everyone wanted  _us_ to get married?" She snorted at the notion. "'Strengthen the ties between the clans for generations to come' or some nonsense."

They both made retching noises and laughed together. Victor did know, but knew that he never needed to really say anything because it would never happen. "I'd make a terrible husband for you, Mari. For... well, obvious reasons, but also... it makes me laugh. The courtiers in Piter who think it a good idea think it because they think I'd 'rein you in'." He laughed. "More like the other way round, I think. And besides..." He then looked her shrewdly, smiled contentedly, and whispered, "I think... I think we're both spoken for... aren't we?"

This was one of the many reasons why Victor loved Mari; sometimes they didn't need to say much to understand each other. She smiled back. "Yes. I think you're right."

In that garden, a little too close to anyone who might try to listen, this was as close as they could get to confiding everything. It wouldn't be until Lady Mari's return visit to Piter, where there were no paper walls and where there were vast wings that only gathered dust and could keep secrets, built by long dead forefathers who thought it a good investment of taxes to build rooms no one would use, that Victor would learn all about the ninja who had once taught Lady Mari how to fight, how to be formidable in every arena, and who she could eventually promise her fidelity to.

Speaking of fidelity however...

"Victor," Mari stopped to warn as they made their way out of the garden, "about Christophe..."

Victor paused too, and gave a weary nod. "What about him?" He asked, cautious and curious.

Christophe went where Victor went, and there had never been any notion of leaving him behind in Piter; it would not have been appropriate for the Feltsman clan, nor the Katsuki's, though... everyone was wary of what might happen.

 _"Masumi... has found someone else,"_ Christophe had confided in Victor, halfway through a bottle of vodka to himself.  _"He... umm... he wrote. So I would know, when we go after Yule."_ He refused to cry. He still refused when the bottle was finished, but the vodka didn't care for his refusals.  _"I... I had hoped... doesn't matter what I hoped..."_

So Christophe came to Hasetsu with the Feltsmans, so nervous he couldn't even hide it, drowning his anxiety in sake when they arrived in Dazaifu to break the journey. Victor had felt guilty for stealing away to see Yuri that night, but soon forgot it when Yuri greeted him at the cottage door with a hungry kiss. The flight back with Makkachin took barely ten minutes, so Yuri happily kept him there later than Victor would normally stay, knowing that it would be difficult for Victor to come during the visit to the Katsukis. But the next day Christophe had clearly underestimated the effect the sake would have on him, and was so painfully hungover that they sent everyone on ahead with their apologies, and the two young men flew later when Christophe could finally hold down some soup and rice.

A good thing perhaps; they missed the formal arrival. Whilst the entire Hasetsu court came out to greet Lord Yakov and his family, including one particular former ambassador's son, only Lady Mari greeted them, having kept an eye out for a flying poodle, telling them to hurry up inside exactly as her father had done earlier. Since, Victor wasn't sure if Christophe had come across his former lover yet; their first dinner had been a small affair, for the two great lords to catch up properly, with a great afternoon feast planned for the whole court the following day. Victor had warned Christophe to not seek Masumi out, which Christophe had agreed to, but...

"Let... just let things happen, if anything does..."

Victor was taken aback. He frowned at Lady Mari, silently asking her to explain herself. She didn't look entirely sure of her words either.

Indeed, she looked reluctant about something. "I'm not saying that anything will, but... I think it would be best if we didn't interfere."

Victor's gut churned. "Mari... you know something, what is it?"

She told him. After, he rather wished she hadn't... because when soft, hesitant footsteps padded over the tatami outside Christophe's bedroom that night, easily heard and even seen in silhouette through the paper walls, it never once occurred to Victor that he ought to advise against Masumi visiting his former lover. He did however wish that he had rolled over sooner to face the other wall, when Masumi's candle showed him shadows that were so intimate they made Victor's heart seize.

It was unmistakeable, after all, the shadow of Masumi on his hands and knees, and Christophe kneeling behind him, and the  _sounds_...

First it made Victor think of straw... but...

... then he thought of Yuri. Of _only_ Yuri. Of his darling gasping for breath, flushed and on the cusp of exploding pleasure, then even relieved as it arrived, crashing through him like an avalanche down a mountainside, and then happy, smiling and sweaty after, so rewarded for his trust.

Victor closed his eyes and buried his face into Makkachin's fur - who was scratching his paws over his ears and eyes, grumbling quietly, making Victor giggle at his dog's reaction.

"Sorry about last night," Christophe murmured the next day, as they drank tea together, waiting for Lord Katsuki's valet to come and help them into the kimono the clan had gifted them.

Both Victor and Makkachin snorted, and both levelled Christophe with a look that boldly said,  _like hell you are_. Christophe at least gave an awkward laugh in return.

Victor took a sip of his tea, smiling absentmindedly at the quality of the sencha and jasmine. Ah, it never tasted as good as it did in Hasetsu. "Don't be sorry." Makkachin grumbled and wandered off to plonk himself down by the doors, marking pointedly that Victor was alone in that opinion. Victor chuckled at his silly dog, and then turned back to his friend. "Mari... told me a little. And... well, the walls are thin; I heard a little of what Masumi whispered to you."

_"He... makes sure I'm looked after..."_

Christophe looked furious. "Stupid fool... stupid..."

 _"_ Lady Mari _makes sure you're taken care of -"_ Victor had heard Christophe whisper furiously that night, only to be interrupted with a hiss.

 _"That's not what I mean! Lady Mari isn't... I need... she's a_ woman _, Chris, I... I need... I need a m-man..."_

Hoyūsha-san. A... 'thoroughly competent player', Lady Mari had described him, although she hadn't meant it as a compliment; only an acknowledgement. Hoyūsha Heishi was a general for Lord Katsuki Toshiya's father, Lord Toshio, whose primary approach to relations with the other clans was with a sword. Back then Hoyūsha-san was a young man, revered for his ruthlessness on the battlefield and thus marking him as not much different from his forefathers; the Hoyūsha family had always enjoyed the ear of the Katsuki clan leaders.

Then Toshiya came along, and the very first thing that he did was declare peace with Lord Yakov Feltsman. It was not a popular move... except when a plot began to form to remove Lord Toshiya, it was Lord Yakov who not only sniffed it out, but presented the traitors to Lord Toshiya... almost like a gift.

Heishi's father was one of them. It was the last time members of the Hasetsu court were executed for crimes against the Katsuki clan. Heishi wisely chose to swear his allegiance to Toshiya, and everyone waited to see whether he would follow in his father's footsteps...

Hoyūsha-san didn't. Peacetime made his family richer, now that exorbitant taxes weren't being collected to be pissed away on funding the war machine. Wealth tamed the former war lion to a house cat; his life consisted of being well-fed, well-groomed, with the liberty to go about as he very much pleased, and every now and then he'd hiss and scratch the living daylights out of any stray that dared to disrupt his luxurious status quo. He had had a couple of wives, who had provided him with offspring that he had well taught to ensure their prosperity - Lady Mari said that Heishi's only son made one realise the bravery of mice, who at least dared to venture outside where there might be all kinds of threats that might kill and eat them. She said this with sadness however; such timidity could only be taught.

Which was why she worried whenever Hoyūsha-san picked his lovers.

 _"He's not a man who loves, Victor,"_ Mari told him in the garden, whispering carefully.  _"I do understand why Masumi is... interested. He's good-looking, even for his age, and he's wealthy. His name offers... protection, I suppose. But he's not Christophe. Christophe_ loved _Masumi, he was_ loving _. Hoyūsha doesn't have it in him to be like that, and never has. And... given what Masumi has been through... he needs loving."_

So when Masumi came the next night too, Victor carefully and quietly got changed, snuck out into the little garden just outside the guest rooms, and flew off with Makkachin to leave the two lovers be.

The cottage was empty, as was the spot where Yuri would hang up his skates. Victor smiled and skipped down to the frozen lake, Makkachin chasing after him, and -  _oh_. How was it that even after all this time Yuri could still take his breath away when he saw him upon the ice?

"Yuri!"

Yuri turned and immediately beamed. He came out of his step sequence and skated straight over to the edge of the ice to meet Victor, who toed the edge of the grass and happily opened up his arms to accept Yuri in, smiling and smiling and smiling and -

"Baka, I thought you said you wouldn't be able to come as often whilst you were in Hasetsu, it hasn't even been two days," Yuri was saying, his voice muffled against Victor's collar. Upon the bank, Victor had to lean down a little to be level, even with Yuri's skates.

"Missed you," was all Victor had to say.

Yuri's arms tightened around him. "... Baka..." He mumbled again, but rubbed his hands over Victor's back, shuffled his head so he could kiss the nearest piece of skin he could reach; Victor's chin. "I missed you too."

Victor leant down further to catch a proper kiss, and then pulled back to gaze adoringly at his Yuri.

He looked a little tired. No wonder; it was late for them, and Yuri still had a long week of work ahead, and yet he was out on the ice. To clear his thoughts, Victor knew, and to wear himself out so he could sleep. He pressed a gentle kiss to just under Yuri's eye, where shadows were forming, and whispered -

"I love you."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"... I love you too."

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> I'm afraid it'll be another long wait for the next, though hopefully not as long as this last wait was. The next chapter has already been started, there's several pages of hand-written drafts scribbled in several of Edinburgh's finest cafe's :-) unfortunately I'm posting this from a train back to Devon... eh...
> 
> Otherwise, hope this finds you all well xx


	18. XL - xliv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might amuse you to know that I looked up how far the average stagecoach would travel in a day, back in the day. Wish I hadn't bothered, because now it seems laughable how much I make the climate and geography change over the course of... a hundred miles? Doesn't really work...
> 
> Oh well.

**眠れる森の美女**

_Nemurerumorinobijo_

_~ Sleeping Beauty ~_

* * *

Makkachin was a dog on a mission. A very important one, at that.

Things weren't quite right, you see. Victor was walking about, a lot, but not the walking that Makkachin enjoyed; it was just to that corner of the rug to the other and back, and back again!

Victor smelt worried. Makkachin didn't like it when Victor smelt that way. He forgot to pet him when he smelt like this, or did it all wrong. He even forgot to feed him sometimes! But also it just smelt... wrong.

So Makkachin was on a mission, with his nose to the ground... wait, what was that?

The poodle darted into a curtain and stayed still when he picked up the scent of a servant coming his way. At this time of the night, it was always important not to be seen... although usually he was with Victor, looking for treats in the kitchens, or flying away to see Yuri - oh.

Well, this time he wasn't flying.

* * *

XL

* * *

The visit had gone well, Lord Katsuki Toshiya thought.

It had taken Lord Yurio (the Katsuki family had never called young Lord Feltsman his actual name. This used to make him immeasurably cross, until he was old enough for it to be explained to him _why_ ) a full day before he had a mini-tantrum. At least this time he'd actually eaten the Hasetsuan delicacies the Katsuki family had offered; last time he'd refused to eat almost everything, not even the squid. The boy had eaten nothing but rice - and even then only begrudgingly - until finally Hiroko snuck him into the kitchens and made him katsudon.

The memory of Lord Yurio Feltsman's first bite of his katsudon still made Hiroko giggle with proud happiness. She always looked forward to the Feltsman clan's visit, because it inevitably meant she got to cook again for Yurio, Vicchan and Chrisu-chan. She missed it sometimes, cooking.

In official business too the visit had gone well. Lord Toshiya never liked talking business with his friend - for they had been friends first before either ascended to their titles - but he was also long used to it by now, and all had gone smoothly enough. Despite the objections of many advisers on both sides, neither Toshiya nor Yakov were at all interested in disrupting the status quo that they had worked hard for. So no, there would not be limits on the number of people who moved across the border provided they had legitimate business, no there would not be taxes on either end on goods moving between them with few exceptions, and yes there would be checks at all ports on goods to make sure that potatoes were not rotting and rice was not contaminated with droppings and the like as they were sent over the Ribenhai River.

How easily forgotten the bitter war was between these two clans by those who wished to make a profit without regard of the cost to others. Once there had been black markets operating to escape the tariffs at ports, extortion rings as people were smuggled across borders to escape prosecution from crimes that weren't, famine brought on by waiting for food that had spoiled long before their journey.

Toshiya remembered. He hadn't always been a lord, hadn't always lived in a castle.

His advisers always struggled what to make of him, Toshiya. He knew that, and played it to his advantage; he was a lot smarter than people assumed. They looked at him, this unimpressive silhouette of a man, with scholarly glasses that he still squinted behind, his perpetual smile as though nothing could upset him. He knew that everyone thought he was soft, that he might be easily persuadable to whichever cause they had, and were always aghast when they would spend hours telling him, only for him to smile wider at the end, and say he would still do things his way, unpersuaded. Not the type to be aggressive, or raise his voice... but he was just as strong, if not stronger, than those who used aggression to get their way.

Or at least, perhaps... he hoped he was just as strong. Stronger even... than his father.

A visit with Lord Yakov was never complete without an evening drinking sake and discussing their predecessors. Over the years their discussions had gotten longer then shorter... then longer again as they got wiser, and shorter again. It had taken many years for them both to be brave enough to admit just how much their fathers had scared them, had shaped them into the men they were, but at no point in their long friendship did they ever need to say this: neither missed them, neither wished them back upon the Earth. Undoubtedly their fathers were turning in their graves, but as long as they stayed in them that was just fine with the two lords.

And a visit was never complete without the subject of marriage being brought up yet again. Yakov was not one to laugh out loud much, but he certainly did whenever someone proposed a formal union between their clans. As much as both lords appreciated that the suggestion always came from wanting to ensure the peace - and the prosperity that it bore - for generations to come, the idea of it...

It was always so funny though. The blank look on Vicchan's face, the un-ladylike snort that Mari made no apology for, the giggling fit that would reduce Hiroko to tears as she struggled to contain herself, the way Lady Lilia choked on her tea, the look of disgusted horror on young Yurio's face, the badly hidden grin behind Christophe's hand. Behind closed doors, Toshiya and Yakov would laugh and laugh and laugh. They knew they shouldn't, but oh dear... just _no_. Better perhaps to laugh about it though; Toshiya would never be so foolish as to suggest that his daughter couldn't pick her own husband, and as for Victor... Yakov would never do that to his son. Arranged marriages were to neither of their taste.

Hmm, yes. All had gone well on this visit, officially and unofficially. Indeed the only bit that hadn't... came out of nowhere. Or so it felt to the Katsuki family.

"My lord, my lady," Lady Lilia formally asked, shuffling to the centre of the room to bow low before Hiroko could stop her. No such formalities were needed, not between friends. "Please accept my petition for the repatriation of Plisetsky Nicolai-san. He is a former citizen of the Feltsman territories, but has for many years been a resident of Kara, in the Dazaifu prefecture, and has worked as -"

Toshiya knew exactly who Plisetsky-san was. He had never met the man - Hiroko and Mari had, briefly - but he knew very well that he was his son's employer. He had  _vetted_ him when Yuri said he wanted to be his apprentice. Toshiya had expected it to be difficult, not that he could - or _would_ , for that matter - stop his 'nephew' from doing as he wanted, but it had been surprisingly easy; Plisetsky's reputation preceded him. The revenue officials in the central Hasetsu office would credit the Northerner as the reason why Dazaifu port's taxes and paperwork were perfectly in order for several decades, until he had retracted from prefecture work to just managing the local accounts of the town of Kara.

_How the hell did Lady Lilia know of -_

"He is my uncle, by my mother's sister's marriage," the lady explained. "He is a widower, but he is family. We have offered him a home in the Palace of Piter to oversee my son's education."

Sat to the side of Lilia's vacant spot, Yurio scowled. Like a sixth sense, Yakov, sat on the other side, scowled in reaction.  _You will be going along with this, son_.

Lord Katsuki Toshiya turned to his wife and daughter, buying himself a little time to get his thoughts in order. Strictly speaking, Lilia didn't need permission at all; Plisetsky-san was perfectly at liberty to come and go as he pleased. If she had been speaking to Toshiya's father... well, she  _definitely_ would need to petition him, and by doing so she would have probably signed Plisetsky's death warrant; assets were not given up so easily. But those were the old ways; Toshiya had no objection. But...

Never before had a connection to his son been raised in his presence like this.  _Never_. So all three of the Katsuki family did their absolute best to put on easy smiles and pretend that everything was perfectly normal, just business as usual. "Lilia-kun, I accept your petition, and hereby grant it. So long as he is willing, Plisetsky Nicolai-san has my leave to come and go across the border at his leisure. We, the Katsuki Clan, thank him for his services; should he require ours in return to aid his journey, he most certainly has it." He turned to the court official on duty. "Please, see to it." The official nodded in return, and took note.

"Arigatōgozaimashita, Toshiya-sama," Lilia bowed again in gratitude, again before Hiroko could stop her. "Thank you for your offer of service. On my uncle's behalf, I accept it, and if I may, I request that one Tosuu Yuri-san accompany him to Piter."

Mari choked on nothing, quickly issuing a startled apology from behind her sleeve as she fought against the coughs. Hiroko blinked to cover up how wide her eyes had blown, and Toshiya was certain his heart had stopped. For a moment, it felt like his consciousness had split into two voices; one was deathly silent... the other was going  _shimatta-shimatta-shimatta-_

"T-Tosuu...?" Toshiya repeated, hoping to every God he could think of that he had only misheard.

"Tosuu Yuri, my lord," Lady Lilia reiterated, and the Katsukis each tried not to react again. "He is my uncle's apprentice, to whose care my uncle intends to leave his business upon his retirement. My uncle is... it is a long journey, and we would greatly appreciate it if he had a familiar companion to ensure his well-being. We will, of course, take care of all expense for this, and we will ensure Tosuu-san's safe and comfortable return to Kara after."

Toshiya blinked. "I... see. How... err... generous." He licked his lips, his mouth dry. Yakov was beginning to frown. "This apprentice, Tosuu-san... he is -" The next _hurt_. "- a Katsukan?"

"He is, my lord. He is nineteen, and by my uncle's report, _exceedingly_ capable."

Oh... Toshiya, Hiroko and Mari had to be so careful not to  _smile_. That was their son, brother - their boy, their  _Yuri_ \- who was being praised. For all of Yuri's life, hidden away, the only reports of how he fared were through his guardians, the Three Grand Prix Fairies. Unlike for Mari, Toshiya could never ask Yuri's teacher directly how well he did in school, or Plisetsky-san whether his son worked hard. Such pride always came second-hand, experienced first by others.

 _Oh Yuri..._ Toshiya had to clear his throat before he turned again to the court official and requested for travel documents with the clan seal be made out to Tosuu Yuri so that he could pass unheeded over the Ribenhai.

And when he finally had a moment's peace, Yuri's family all shed a happy, proud tear. _'Exceedingly capable'_... from Lady Lilia even. He must have been doing well, very well. "Hiroko? When Yuri comes back from Piter, let's go visit."  _It's been too long,_ Toshiya thought.

He always thought that.

* * *

XLI

* * *

It would be a difficult choice... but on the whole, Yuri preferred flying to sailing. He would prefer even being rocked about in the carriage on pot-holed roads to sailing. It only made him feel even more sick to think he'd have to do it again to get back to Kara.

Had it been this bad the first time he'd made this journey, for the skating expedition? Yuri couldn't remember the journey at all; he'd been such a nervous wreck that Phichit had put him out of his misery and made him to sleep for most of it. He remembered vaguely how cramped the stagecoaches had been, remembered boarding the ferry across the river and disembarking on the other side, but otherwise... nothing. The same for the return journey, though he had been so caught up in his own world of failed jumps that he wouldn't have remembered even if Phichit had allowed him to remain conscious. He rather wished he had Phichit's magic for this journey too... oh Gods...

The carriage - left behind by the Feltsman family as they themselves headed on back to Piter after their official visit to the Katsuki clan in Hasetsu - was exceptionally comfortable. No hard bench, but plush seats and cushions, and just Yuri and Plisetsky-san. Yuri had never seen anything like it, and whilst his employer didn't comment, he knew him well enough after all these years to know he hardly disapproved, not really.

"She didn't have to, my niece is making a fuss..." The older man said, but with begrudging affection. Yuri would have agreed... if it didn't mean disagreeing with Lady Feltsman. He had had to meet her when she and Lord Yakov came into the shop. He had found himself sympathising with mice being hunted by eagles before it occurred to him whose step-mother she was. And whose father Lord Yakov Feltsman was...  _eek!_

 _"I must be mad to do this,"_ Yuri had admitted to Victor after.  _"I felt like they could see right through me, that they... they... that they k-knew, or...!"_

Victor had took his hands in his and pressed kisses to his fingers.  _"They didn't, I'm sure, my love."_ Yuri heard him, tried to believe him, mentally slapped himself and reminded himself that he was being paranoid, and finally began to calm when Victor pulled him into his embrace, and stroked his hair soothingly.  _"Yuri, if you're not sure about coming, that's alright, you don't have to -"_

But they both knew that wasn't true anymore. Yuri had agreed, had accepted the invitation... even if he didn't suffer any consequence for declining now, he would always regret it anyway, regret being so _rude_. He  _had_ to see this through now.

The beginning of the journey, to Dazaifu, was relatively mundane; he had made it before with Plisetsky-san, albeit in far less comfortable transport. But it took only a matter of minutes for the river crossing to get too much for Yuri, who soon was puking over the side of the barge. It wasn't even that rough... but no amount of staring at the horizon - nonexistent in the mist - or eating ginger biscuits or deep breaths helped. When they docked at Urajio, Yuri practically crawled off the barge, and almost cried with relief at the stability of the ground beneath his knees. He managed to nibble on some bread, but it provided little comfort, Yuri not being used to the tough chew, and he went straight to bed, only just conscious enough to appreciate that he had one of the finest rooms in the city (the concierge told them), paid for by the Feltsmans. He thought sleep might evade him, unused to the raised mattress, the curtains around the four-poster bed, the thick covers and copious number of pillows and cushions...

Don't be so silly, Yuri was asleep before Plisetsky-san even blew out the candles.

As if deliberately, to continue not meeting his expectations, Yuri woke feeling much, much better. He didn't even feel groggy; simply woke comfortably and naturally... to the sound of Plisetsky-san's snoring from the bed on the opposite end of the room. Oh... he must have slept very deeply to have not been woken earlier by that. Yuri clambered out of the bed awkwardly, nearly stumbling as he pulled the curtains back around it - Plisetsky-san must have closed them, he didn't remember bothering - and followed the single shaft of light peeking through the heavy, thick, ceiling to floor curtains at the window.

He gasped quietly and stumbled back to the bed, snatched his glasses from the bedside table and darted back to the window, gazed out again.

Had Plisetsky-san been looking, he would probably say that there wasn't much to see. At best, Yuri could see the next five terraced houses across the street but nothing behind them, it was so misty. But the sun was glowing weakly behind it, bathing everything in weak, cold morning light, draining everything of colour. But, Yuri realised, there was no colour to drain; it was just brick and mortar, no lights in the windows.

And early spring flowers, planted in beds beneath the sills, just budding. In the misty gloom their colours were diluted, but... there they were. It looked like another world.

Yuri lived in a forest. Even in Kara, there were trees dotted through the town, where houses were built around them. It was strange, seeing nothing but white and grey. But... impressive too. The architecture was completely different, taller and grander than the modest and simple houses of Kara that were built long ago with the strongest wood. Yet for all the smooth brickwork and plastering of the houses in Urajio, it seemed un-decorative. He had seen pictures of the Palace of Piter... he knew there was far grander architecture to what he could see from the inn's window.

Yuri used the ensuite bathroom, marvelling at the porcelain bathtub - what an odd shape and size, it even had brass legs - and the plush towels left for the guests. There was soap carved into the shape of a flower in a dish; he had only recognised it from the faint smell, his own being a rough lump made by the local apothecary that smelt more pungent for it. He waited for Plisetsky-san to wake and dress, and went down to breakfast and -

"This is bliny," Plisetsky-san grabbed a plate from the buffet table, trusted it into Yuri's hands, and started putting helpings on to it at Yuri's wide-eyed, lost expression. "Here, try. It's sweet. This too; syrniki, grenki. If you don't like it, there's porridge in the bowl there. But try first."

Once ladened with foods Yuri had never seen before, Plisetsky-san herded him to a table with a dainty white cloth spread over it, and Yuri winced as a waiter pulled a wooden chair out and it screeched over the floor tiles. He waited and watched as Plisetsky-san grabbed a pot of honey on the table and drizzled it over everything on his plate. Yuri did the same, wincing as he made a mess of it, not that the elder man seemed to notice or care. Then he picked up his fork - he had used Northern cutlery before, but had never sat to eat without chopsticks as an option - and...

"Oishi!"

Plisetsky grunted in approval, but didn't pause in his own enjoyment of his breakfast, other than to acknowledge the waiter as he filled their cups with coffee that was brewed as black as Yuri's hair, which smelt wonderful but tasted vile. Even Plisetsky wrinkled his nose and abandoned his cup, making Yuri feel a little less guilty for doing the same; he was used to tea. Coffee beans were rare and expensive in the Katsuki territories, imported through the Crispino lands via their trading routes across the seas to the south. Plisetsky-san had bought small bags of the beans, ground them himself and brewed it carefully, and let Yuri taste it in the bookshop... he hadn't liked it then either.

"Come, let us walk before the drive," Plisetsky-san said after they finished and gathered their things, checked out of the inn and checked on the carriage. "There's a good place for pirozhki at the dock, the innkeeper says it's still there. We'll get some for the journey, there isn't a good place to stop and the night creeps in quicker the closer we get to Piter."

Yuri nodded and followed in a daze, commenting quietly that he wouldn't want to be travelling in the dark, unable to see.

"It's not just that. It gets cold."

 _Oh, of course,_ Yuri thought, but... he wasn't really paying attention.

In the time they'd had breakfast the mist had thinned just enough for Yuri to peer along the Urajio docks, rubbing his arms against the chill, and marvel at how spread out the city must be. Urajio was built on a steady slope, with the tallest of buildings perhaps only four storeys tall so that nothing stood taller than the cathedral that hid like a shadow in the mist towards the top of the hill. The roads were straight, paved, and busy as business stepped up a pace now that the efficiency of morning twilight was over. And the  _noise_...  _the noise..._ it made Yuri's eyes swirl.

Plisetsky-san tapped Yuri on the shoulder, bringing back his focus. The old man pointed. "We used to live in that house, my wife and I."

It was one of the terraced houses facing the river, the facade whitewashed and clean, windows tall and boastfully wide. The housekeeper was at the alley gate that presumably led to the kitchens at the back, barking orders as a delivery was carried in by a porter.

"Back then I was the deputy-head of the Customs House," Plisetsky-san explained, his voice carefully only for Yuri to hear, and he pointed in the opposite direction down the dock-edge, to a free-standing house that dominated all others. It was painted red, for a start, and looked part warehouse, part tavern, and was buzzing like a beehive with people coming in and out.

There were  _so many people_...

"Tosuu-kun." Plisetsky-san dropped his hand on Yuri's shoulder.

Yuri started out of his skin. "H-Hai?!"

Plisetsky-san just stared at him. He'd worked long enough with Yuri to know when he was a little overwhelmed. "Let's go."

 _You're supposed to be looking after_ him _, not him looking after_ you, a cruel voice whispered. Yuri flinched at the reminder, and followed.

The simple part of finally leaving Urajio was in repacking their things, checking out of the inn -  _"It has all been taken care of, Sir Plisetsky. Please, pass on our thanks to her ladyship for her custom!"_ \- and checking that the carriage was secure again. When Yuri got in he was immediately relieved to see that sheepskins had been put down on the seats - there was no other form of heat, and he was regretting the thinness of the lining in his hanten.

The complicated bit was from when the carriage finally set off. "The traffic is no better than when I was last here," Plisetsky-san complained with seemingly genuine grievance. "I  _told_ the mayor  _years ago_ to sort out the width of these roads, they  _must_ do something to make it easier to get through -"

Yuri barely heard him, not properly. He nodded along, but his attention was on all the shops, all the houses, all the people they slowly drove past, stopping and starting as carts began to offload their goods, blocking the road, or behind queues of other carriages making turnings at junctions and squares. There was the sense of it all being organised - it was all one way, there wasn't room for two carriages side by side along many of the roads - but  _only barely_.

"The city has gotten too big for itself," Plisetsky-san commented, after an hour had gone by and they still hadn't left the city limits. "Centuries ago Urajio was just a fishing village, Dazaifu didn't exist at all back then. But then the Emperors swept through and one of them finally had the good sense to build a port, build Dazaifu on the other side, to organise the river crossing. As trade grew, so did the city. But they didn't plan ahead, so none of the roads make sense."

Yuri nodded, rapt, and as the carriage went past a school he watched it go past. Children were playing in a chaos of screams and giggles and cries outside in a courtyard, so many more than had ever attended Minako-sensei's school in Kara. What would that have been like, Yuri wondered, going to school in a city like this, where there are so many more people all living on top of each other?

Plisetsky-san grunted. "I imagine you would not have liked it, Tosuu-kun. Kara is small; everyone knows everyone, for good or ill. You're not good with strangers, Tosuu-kun; you struggle because they are  _unknown_. Here, you would have strangers everyday." Yuri turned away from the window, surprised to be read so well. The old man smiled. "And you would never find a bookshop like mine where no one wouldn't twist your ear for reading all afternoon."

Yuri blushed, chuckled and turned back to the window. "You're probably right," and he frowned, suddenly sad. He owed this man, his mentor, so much... what in the world would he have done if Plisetsky-san hadn't taken him in, hadn't trained him, hadn't given him a vocation?

At that moment the carriage passed a beggar woman; young, Yuri's age perhaps, with a baby in her arms and a threadbare shawl that did nothing against the late winter/early spring chill. The carriage came to one of its many pauses, and Yuri flinched as she caught his eye on her. His own last thought echoed back at him, and he looked away, ashamed at himself. Whatever might have happened if Plisetsky-san hadn't employed him, this would never have been his fate. Kara was a small place, where many just about got by, but anyone who found themselves in need always had someone to take them in, the council made sure of it.

The woman came to the side of the carriage and spoke in, even as the driver shouted at her. Yuri's eyes widened; her Northern tongue was too thick for him to understand even a word, but the desperation required no translation, nor the aggressive tone of the driver. The baby started to cry. Yuri's hands rose to his chest, clenching,  _useless_ -

Plisetsky-san pulled him away from the carriage window, pulled him back into his seat gruffly. Yuri turned to him, expected to be told to leave it all alone, but instead... the old man pulled out his purse, upended it, took the woman's free hand in his and spoke quickly and quietly to her, urgently, before shouting at the driver, shutting him promptly. Her eyes widened at him, quickly filled with tears, and she started shaking her head, begged something of Plisetsky-san, pushing the money  _back_ into his hands. He shook her head too and spoke over her, nodding to the child who was still crying, and -

He smiled.

The driver cracked his whip, and the carriage began to move again. The woman jogged to keep up, kissing Plisetsky-san's hands before letting go. She disappeared from view, and the old man sat back in his seat without a further word, the smile gone from his wrinkled face.

The two sat in silence. Yuri didn't know what to make of it...

"Tosuu-kun..."

Yuri looked to his employer. "Hai?"

Plisetsky-san sighed, not looking at anything, not even his protégé. "I'm sure I don't have to, but I'm not going to _ask_ this of you, or make you promise: I simply  _order_ this of you. Should any man, woman or child come to the door of my shop, asking for help like that young woman needed, you _will_ help them."

Yuri stared at him in awe, and then he too looked forward, at whatever his employer might have been staring towards. He smiled, and when he spoke, his voice was strong. "Hai."

Plisetsky-san nodded in receipt, hummed gruffly and reached out to pat Yuri's shoulder comradely. "Good." He looked away, out into the street. After a minute or so, he spoke again. "It used to much worse than this."

Yuri looked at him. "Worse?"

"Hmm. There were hundreds of homeless and destitute people in Urajio when I lived here. Soldiers with nowhere to go when they could no longer fight, widows of those that didn't come back. Wives and children of breadwinners who spent their pay checks on drink and poppy pipes, workers who would have spent their pay right but were robbed of it. Those born with handicaps who didn't have welcoming homes... all kinds of people. My wife and I; we ordered our housekeeper to make soup every night, great vats of it, to give out to the poor. It was just the two of us, and I was paid well; I could afford to help those who could not afford anything. My superiors told me to stop many times, because they said it was unbecoming to have so many beggars outside my house every night. But I told them I wouldn't stop until I was sure that someone else would make soup. They did, for a bit, but we still didn't stop. But then Lord Vladimir, Lord Yakov's predecessor, upped the taxes from the port to fund the war against the Katsuki clan, and the city council said that they couldn't afford to help anymore because they had to pay for more cannons."

Yuri's head drooped. "That's awful..."

"Yes, it is," Plisetsky-san said bluntly. "But Lord Yakov... I hear he's different. Maybe he is. Did you notice any cannons in Urajio?"

Yuri's head raised sharply as he thought of it. "No... no I didn't."

"Hmm. Neither did I." Plisetsky-san smiled to himself, and said no more, clearly deep in thought.

At the edge of the city stood the remnants of walls that must have made Urajio a fortress once, but were clearly in the process of being taken down brick by brick to build other things, and then all were fields, and then endless forests, broken by villages and towns, and the road that wound through them all.

For stretches the road was perfectly straight, where the landscape would yield to it. In others, it was anything but. Down one long and steep hill the road zigzagged, before turning at the bottom to wind along the river, searching for a bridge across. Yuri absorbed it all, thinking of Victor, and wondering which sections he had worked on. It was fairly obvious to the driver; the closer they got to Piter the fewer potholes they encountered, the less the carriage bounced along, the faster the horses rode.

"You can rest if you wish, Tosuu-kun," Plisetsky-san said, his own eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. "It's a long journey."

Yuri gave a vague murmur, and continued to marvel the world outside. A small part of his regretted it, because perhaps he would have found a respite from the cold that was becoming more and more bitter as they went, but... he would never regret seeing what he saw of the Feltsman lands.

Evergreen dark from winter sleep, frosted and stripped for the foragers who didn't sleep too through the freeze that hadn't ended yet. For all the solemnity of this quiet world that waited for the sun, the carriage wheels rattled rudely, scattering whatever lived in the light that seemed to be made out of layer and layer of shadows. There was so much motion... everything rushed past as the carriage swept Yuri through, the grunts of the horses cutting through the cold, but also... in the distance... there was a still that wasn't, like everything was shifting but together to a pace beyond Yuri's noticing.

Funny how _smell_ can change a place. If it had smelt foul, Yuri would have thought he was being sped into Hell. But it smelt... clean. Untampered with.

Urajio however had  _stank_.

Yuri had spent his life in books, learning about all kinds of people and places and histories... he had never known that this was what they could be like, when he ventured out to find them for his own eyes to cast on. His curious imagination had made a good attempt to paint in his mind's eye what the outside world looked like, but he had never imagined... oh. How unbearable life could have been, if he had known what beauty, what wonder lay outside of the bamboo grove, outside of the little town of Kara.

To think that Victor flew over all of this so very often. Had he ever seen this, seen how beautiful his land was?

His land... his land that he would inherit one day...  _don't think about that, Yuri_.

But he did think about it. Constantly. It made his stomach shrivel.

_Oh Gods... what am I doing here? I don't belong here, in this extraordinary land. This isn't going to work, it's madness, I should have never left Kara, I-_

The trees ended abruptly, leaving bare fields, lined in brown and white and dotted with cattle. Yuri frowned at the sudden loss of nature untamed, and leaned forward to look out.

There was the City of Piter.

Remember how smells make a significant different to our impressions? Well, Piter smelt of...

Hops. Colossal body odour. Leather. Steam and smoke. And the noise again... Urajio was  _quiet_ in comparison to the noise leaking out of the walls and across the fields, screaming to get out through the great gates, which were wide open to let traffic through. The carriage joined the queue of many, many others waiting for their business to be stated, verified, and tolls paid. When it finally came to their turn, there was no need for coins; the clan seal of Plisetsky's letter of invitation was enough for them to be waved through immediately. They had been expected, and the guards issued directions directly to the Palace.

It got overwhelmingly worse. Every road seemed to be a main one, but not the one that led to the Palace Gates. It seemed that at every block they made another turn, waiting for traffic conductors to signal their moment. For Yuri, it was awfully dizzying. It also seemed to take even longer to weave through the City of Piter than it had to get from the outskirts of Urajio to the outskirts of Piter.

The lower class quarters, all rows and rows of terraced housing in varying states of disrepair or reconstruction, gave way to the markets, markets to services, services to a gigantic military barracks. As tall and austere as a cathedral and partially covered in scaffolding, Yuri gasped as he realised that that must have been Victor's hospital, and admired the grandeur of it all. Almost immediately after the hospital was a gate, which opened quickly so that the carriage would not have to pause, and then the whitest of white facades of the aristocratic class; mansions styled in gold and turquoise hints and tall glass windows, with garden drives and neat hedgerows. Here there were no turns, just a long, paved carriageway lined with the odd tree, leading up to -

Yuri crept back from the carriage window, the nerves he'd spent hours and hours trying to ignore returning with a vengeance to the forefront. He didn't belong here. He really didn't...

The carriage came to a stop, and the door promptly opened to reveal a guard dressed impeccably in red and white - the colours of the Feltsman court - his beret neat upon his short hair, beard well-trimmed, and black boots polished.

"Mr Plisetsky?"

Yuri watched with wide eyes as Plisetsky-san gave a curt nod and handed over his letter of invitation once again, speaking only briefly in the Northern tongue. The guard received it with a courteous nod, flicked through the pages quickly, noting Lady Lilia's seal with a nod. After, he carefully neatened the pages together and handed them back. "Very good, Mr Plisetsky, Mr Tosuu. Welcome to the Palace of Piter." And with a bow of his head he closed the door again, gave a barked order to the gatemen and banged the side of the carriage, which immediately rolled forward.

 _Oh Gods... we're here_. Even Plisetsky-san seemed to sit up a little straighter in his seat, barely blinking.

First, after a short driveway, there was an exceedingly thick wall, tall and of immovable stone, with battlements built on the other side to look down into the City. The gate at this wall opened without any need to stop. Then there was a long stretch of lawn, as long as the fields they had passed on their journey but without a soul working them, and a sheer blanket of snow was completely even and undisturbed. Then there was another gate, but this one was completely unlike the gigantic beasts that needed several men to push and pull them that they had thus far encountered; this was elaborately designed in metal swirls. And beyond them...

Yuri's jaw dropped. "Segoi..."

Next to him, Plisetsky-san was silent, but his wide eyes told enough; this sight impressed even him.

Perfectly trimmed topiary, dusted with snow. Expansive lawns designed to look as if they had no end, mist concealing that their boundaries were not at the horizon. The smoothness of the gravel under the wheels of the carriage, making for the most comfortable drive in the entire journey from Kara. And the Palace itself... Yuri had never seen such an enormous building, or ever fathomed that such could even exist.

The Great Palace of Piter was built relatively recently, commissioned by Lord Yakov Feltsman's great-great-great-grandfather, but completed in the time of the great-great-grandfather; in comparison, the Castle of Hasetsu was originally built a millennia ago, and had expanded, burnt down, rebuilt, renovated many times since. It was a symbol to show the rise of the clan at the edge of the Bin Kingdom, for the only palace to compare with it was the Imperial Palace of the Capital, and even then, the Imperials had had to vainly commission some extensions to be certain of their superiority. Yuri knew all about the history of these buildings, but reading about the grandeur of the white pillars and the sheer shine of  _that_ many windows - the expense of the  _glass_ , of the charcoal in the fireplaces to keep the rooms warm! - was... Yuri could never have imagined this.

_This is where Victor lives..._

_... what is he doing with someone like me?_

The carriage turned around a fountain - the centre was a bust of a man that Yuri couldn't recognise, but was armed with a great sword and a stern expression. A god perhaps? - and finally came to a halt at the bottom of a flight of marble stairs, at the top of which was... a woman with an expression to rival the statue's.

Yuri's stomach churned and threatened to rebel. That... that must be...

The butler stepped forward smartly - his uniform was very decorated, yet was also his livery was easily distinguishable - opened the door and offered a hand to Plisetsky-san with a well practiced movement. The elderly man gave the hand an odd look - did this butler really think he needed it, or was it manners? - but as if remembering where he was he took it nonetheless to be polite.

Yuri wasn't to know that one of the first things that Plisetsky-san said to his niece, who he had never met before, was to comment that _no, he did not need help getting out of carriages, thank you very much_. Yuri wasn't to know that, because the butler put up a hand to halt him as he stood to get out too.

"Mr Tosuu, welcome to Piter. Please, stay with the carriage as it goes round the back; the housekeeper is waiting for you."

"... O-Oh..." Yuri sat back down again, blushing. Of course he wasn't to enter the same door as Lady Feltsman, how presumptuous of him. The carriage continued on again, hugging the palace wall, and Yuri looked out and up at the windows and thought...

_Victor... I'm here. Are you there too?_

* * *

XLII

* * *

Why was the poodle here too?

For the workmen assigned to the repairs on the North-East road, Lord Victor Feltsman was an enigma. He had been all pretty smiles, chatting away to the foreman when he arrived - he seemed to just  _appear_ , with the dog at his heels - and then the young man had fallen silent and  _listened_. He had  _stayed_ , all day. And whilst he didn't do any physical labour like the workmen, he was nevertheless constantly working.

He wrote notes in a notebook that seemed ready to burst with prior notes. He poured over maps with the foreman, planning out how they were going to divert carriages for the workmen's safety. He asked if they needed additional equipment, and spoke with authority over how long he thought it would take to procure them, or asked without shame what arrangements needed to be made. He made no promises that he knew he wouldn't be able to keep, made reasoned compromises, and suggested improvements where they had not thought they could ask.

Like the food, for instance. _He_ _ate lunch with them_. The same meatless stew, in the tent they had pitched to keep the wind out around their table and benches, and he pulled the same face as everyone else. He said he would speak to the cater, and get them to actually put beef in the stew.

Lord Victor Feltsman, in the flesh, was not what they had expected of this princeling who employed them to work on roads. Then, when the sun started to set, he walked down the very road they had just finished working on, with his poodle, chatting animatedly to it, laughing as it barked back at him excitedly.

They were miles away from Piter. It would take him hours to walk.

Or just a couple of minutes to fly, but the workmen didn't know that for sure. There were rumours that the Feltsman heir had a flying steed; the more ludicrous of those rumours was that it was a flying  _dog_.

But that was preposterous. The poodle - Makkachin, the young lord called it and immediately it would return to his heels, not that the dog ever strayed far away from his master's side - was just a normal poodle. Fluffy and friendly, smart admittedly (Maksim swore that he saw the dog fetch a hammer for Artem without prompting), but still just a regular dog.  _Fly_ , indeed... pfft.

Victor was completely unaware of the impression he had left on the workmen as he walked towards the outskirts of Piter, putting some distance from the work site so that there would be less attention when he and Makkachin took to the air to go pick up Christophe from the hospital. All day, his mind had been desperately trying to distract itself from his thoughts, trying to focus on the work as best as he could, and now that the work day was done, his new struggle was in containing himself.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." It was not working very well.

Makkachin, looking up at his human with a look of bewilderment, decided that he had had enough. He stopped and barked at Victor. Victor, in his own little world, didn't notice until he'd walked several feet. When he did notice he turned back, and smiled. He went back to Makkachin and squatted before his beloved dog, rubbing the poodle's soft head affectionately. "Sorry, Makka."

Makkachin responded by moving forward between Victor's bent knees and licked his face before sitting and giving a huffed woof. Victor smiled again.

"I'm so nervous, Makkachin..." Yes, Makkachin had noticed. "Yuri's...  _here_..." And an enormous grin spread over Victor's face. "He'll be here by now." Then he frowned. "I wonder what he thinks of it..."

Makkachin whined. He put a paw up on Victor's knee.

 _When will I get to see him?_ Victor couldn't stop thinking of the possible answer to this question. Would Yuri be there, inexplicably, in the garden where they would land? Would he be in the drawing room with Victor's family, telling them about his and Mr Plisetsky's journey? Would he be at dinner with them all, in his finest kimono and hakama? Or would they just bump into each other in the halls?

Would they have a chance to talk before they had to pretend to be strangers?

Or, Victor's stomach churned, would Yura get to Yuri first?

For  _weeks_ , Victor's little brother had been twisting with anticipation over Tosuu Yuri's upcoming visit. It would have been funny if Victor hadn't been so anxious for his own reasons, but Yurio would swing from trying to hide his excitement, pretending to be indifferent to the skater, to forgetting and hoping aloud that the palace skating pond would still be frozen when they arrived. Then he'd be sour when he was reminded that it wasn't really Tosuu Yuri who was coming, but rather his great-uncle who was coming to be his tutor. His interim tutor had threatened - too many times, lessening the effect of it - to have the skater's visit cancelled if the young lord misbehaved. Yurio had been apoplectic with rage over such a suggestion... but he had heeded it.

The substitute had resigned with great relief yesterday, not interested in extending his stay a single hour longer than necessary. Everyone had been very understanding.

Yurio had very little to say about his last tutor, perhaps because he had more to say about his next one.

 _"What does he know about teaching?"_ He'd muttered at dinner sulkily, not for the last time, pushing around his cabbage until his mother told him to eat it, not play with it.

 _"Most likely a fair more than you do, Yurachka_ _,"_ she had commented, arching an eyebrow. Sitting across from him, Christophe suppressed a chuckle, earning a glare from the boy. Yura took a deep breath, gearing up to shouting something at Christophe, but caught his parents' glares,  _tsked_ and settled for stuffing his mouth with cabbage so that he didn't get himself into trouble.

Victor hadn't really been paying much attention, until Yura sarcastically echoed Lilia's command to him. _"Oh, hmm..."_ And he chewed on his own forkful slowly, staring once again out of the windows, wondering how Yuri fared in Urajio.

Makkachin barked, bringing Victor back to himself. The poodle pulled himself out of Victor's arms and skipped down the road a little, back towards home, and turned and barked again, tongue lolling.  _Come on, silly_ , the dog seemed to say,  _stop going round in circles. Let's go home._

Victor stared for a moment and then stood with a smile. "Sorry, Makka." The dog huffed with amusement, and Victor chuckled in reply. "Come on then! Let's go pick up Christophe!" And he ran too, past his dog with a laugh, and Makkachin barked excitedly and ran after him, expanding as he went, until Victor jumped onto his back and the two soared into the skies over Piter.

Christophe was waiting in the usual quad, not bothering to watch the open sky above, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see anything until his friend and dog landed, but he could hear his name, and a bark, just fine. Victor dropped seemingly out of the thin air a few feet away, and then the air shimmered and a regular-sized Makkachin fell into Victor's arms as well, licking his human's face as Victor laughed. Christophe rolled his eyes with a grin. "You know that stunt is going to go horribly wrong one day," he remarked casually.

Victor paid the warning no attention; it wasn't the first time he'd heard it. "All alright here?"

Christophe nodded. He raised an eyebrow, amused; Victor was oozing nervous energy. "How's your day been?"

Victor glared at him pointedly. " _Fine_."

"Uh-huh." Christophe just grinned back. "Want to go home for dinner now?"

Christophe laughed as multiple emotions rolled over Victor's face, competing for dominance. He took Victor's arm and led him through the hospital to their waiting carriage. "Come on Lover-Boy. Time to face the music."

Makkachin barked in agreement.

_Yuri... I'm on my way. I'll see you soon, my love._

* * *

XLIII

* * *

Yuri wasn't complaining - certainly not in the Palace of Piter, good Gods! - but... umm...

It was so cold it was impossible to forget it. Everyone kept pronouncing his name wrong. And - this really wasn't a complaint, just an observation of his own inadequacy - everyone was speaking Northern. It was utterly bewildering. It was... a little overwhelming.

There were brief reprieves; Mrs Zhelann, the housekeeper, had been waiting for him exactly as expected, and immediately swept him up.

"Tosuu-san, Piter e yōkoso. Do you speak the Northern tongue?"

Taken-aback - her accent on the 'yōkoso' was spot on - Yuri immediately blushed, feeling very unaccomplished; an unfamiliar feeling. He spluttered out an answer. "Hai! Err...  _da, nemnogo_..."

Her expression was impenetrable. Her pointed silence however was humiliating. Without any comment, she continued to speak in the Common tongue, her accent thick though it didn't impede her fluency in the slightest; she spoke with barely pause for breath, moving around him towards the carriage where the footmen were already bringing down the cases from the roof.

"Please assist me with Mr Plisetsky's luggage; what is what and what needs to go where?" Yuri had barely a moment to so much as take a breath before she was already answering the questions he hadn't yet thought of. "Mr Plisetsky's clothes are to go to his bedroom - there is a closet - and he has a study. I presume he will want his books and personal effects to go there. Has he brought any furniture? My Lady was not sure what to expect."

Yuri stumbled over his answers - "no, Plisetsky-san... err, Mr Plisetsky had not brought any furniture... that is his trunk for the wardrobe... those two are his books - ah, yes, erm, yes please take them to his study... oh those are... err... I don't know? Gomen'nasai! Ah, umm, no, err... ē to, how do you say..." - whilst Mrs Zhelann shouted in Northern to two footmen who nodded and started taking the luggage down from the carriage roof, and then he was running to keep up with her, dashing back to grab his own bag of belongings as she waved him into the -

The Palace was a maze, clearly. Yuri jogged quickly to fall into step behind Mrs Zhelann as she marched with militarist speed past the kitchens, pantries, laundry room, servants' dining hall - she stopped only outside there, explaining when meal times were - and then she was sweeping through to a flight of stairs, ascended all the way to the top (Yuri was out of breath by the third floor, trying to keep up) and then took a left, then a right, then another right, then down a few steps, then _up_ another, until Yuri was well and truly lost, and then -

"This is your room," Mrs Zhelann explained, running a finger over the mantelpiece above the lit fire, nodding with satisfaction as her finger came away clean. "The men's bathroom and lavatory are just at the end of the hall. I hope you'll be comfortable here during your stay, Mr Tosuu."

Or 'Tosoo', she kept pronouncing it. Yuri didn't have the guts to correct the stout woman, to emphasise the additional 'u' on the end. He merely thanked her meekly, putting his bag down on the bed - a single, with a simple brass frame - and tried not to look disapproving of the room and give a false impression. The bedroom was actually quite nice; it was compact, with just enough space for the bed, a wardrobe that Yuri suspected he would not need to use, and an armchair by the fire. The walls were covered very evenly with undecorated wallpaper, and the ceiling was slanted, with a window jutting out above the bed. The logs in the modest fireplace crackled, and whilst Yuri could feel their heat up close, it wasn't quite enough to be felt in every corner. He thought of Plisetsky-san's earlier warning of the cold at nights, and hoped -

"There are extra blankets in the wardrobe," Mrs Zhelann volunteered, opening the wardrobe doors to reveal a generous pile. She gave an unexpected, caring smile. "Many of Lord Katsuki's retinue, when they stay struggle with the cold no matter the time of year. Now, if you please; has Mr Plisetsky given you a schedule of your planned activities whilst you are here assisting his settling?"

"Err..." Yuri blushed even deeper. He had been told _nothing_ about what he was expected to do, and when he had asked Plisetsky-san didn't know either. "N-No, err, niet."

"Hmm, da. I expected as much. We shall await further instruction. Until then -"

She proceeded to give him a concise but polite list of rules to abide by, including where he could go in the Palace (not much of it), efficiently provided him with a small sketch of the building already prepared in her pocket, pointing out whereabouts his room was, how to find the staircase again, and where -

Despite being asked to not wander the halls, it appeared Yuri wouldn't have much choice; they descended a couple of floors, then through a door that was plain on the staircase side but was exceptionally elaborate on the other, along with the entirety of the hall. Murals were painted over the high arches of the ceiling, of angels and cherubs and warriors and clouds, with gold accents and turquoise. A long rug spanned the length of the hallway, deep red and plush under Yuri's socked feet.

Yuri's eyes widened so much it hurt. Not even the most elaborate of temples looked like this in the Katsukan lands.

They came to the end of the hallway - which felt to Yuri like it never ended - to an open door that was a good two feet taller than was necessary, and Mrs Zhelann knocked upon the solid wood and curtseyed in the doorway. Yuri caught up with her, was about to mimic her, but was saved from making a fool out of himself by the distracting sight of Plisetsky-san shaking his head adamantly.

"No, this will not be appropriate."

Yuri's innards turned to stone as he saw who his mentor was addressing; Lady Lilia, whose arms were folded elegantly under her bosom, an absolute picture of majesty. Barely a few metres away from her, Yuri could see clearly how precisely her purple, velvet dress was fitted to her slim body, the collar choking around her neck and decorative frills kept to a minimum. With her hair scrapped back into a tight knot, pulling at her cheekbones, her face was utterly expressionless, save for the arched eyebrow. Clearly it was not the done thing to disagree with her.

"Uncle?" The single word sent shivers up Yuri's spine; with it she conveyed so many subtle things. Her raised eyebrow faltered however as she saw the discomfort flinch through Plisetsky-san at the title. He switched to Northern, his head bowed and voice quiet, respectful. Yuri didn't catch all of the following, but... this is what he said.

 _"... My Lady. Please, forgive me, but let an old man advise you; this will not do."_ Yuri saw Mrs Zhelann raise her head in interest at his side.  _"You are my employer. You have engaged me to be your son's tutor. It would be better, then, to install me in whichever room or rooms you gave to your former teachers."_ The bookshop keeper cast his eyes over the enormous bedroom - he could have fitted his entire house into the room he was standing in, at the carvings in the four-poster bed, the view of the gardens from the windows.  _"I am... very appreciative of... your hospitality and generosity, but I am just an accountant. It was my wife that was your relation, and she has been gone many years now."_  Plisetsky-san paused, enjoying a smile in his wife's memory.

After a moment, Lady Feltsman spoke. "I'm glad to see that I made the right choice."

Was that a smile? If it was, then it was gone by the time Lady Feltsman turned to Mrs Zhelann and issued instructions that again Yuri couldn't keep up with. Mrs Zhelann nodded several times, and stepped aside with a curtsey - Yuri remembered to bow - as Lady Feltsman strode to the door, her heels audible under her skirt even on the carpet. Then she paused at the door, and this time Yuri caught enough to guess the gist. "I expect you to still join us for dinner tonight...  _Uncle_." And then she was gone.

After a moment, Plisetsky-san gave a gruff chuckle. Mrs Zhelann concealed her own amusement and stepped forward towards her new colleague to shake his hand, both of them looking more comfortable for it. When she spoke in Northern it was completely beyond Yuri's comprehension, her accent so indecipherable, and then all of a sudden they were leaving and he had to run again to catch up.

"This is better."

A floor up, in an entirely different section of the Palace - from the view Yuri guessed that they were roughly above the kitchens - the tutor's quarters were obviously more suited. Mrs Zhelann opened the thick curtains to reveal that the ceiling was still far out of reach above their heads, but gone was the gold linings, the frivolity of expense. A generous fireplace was prepared, which Mrs Zhelann immediately lit, and the simpler four-poster bed took up much of the space. Plisetsky-san nodded in approval; what did he need a bed built for a king for when there was only himself to sleep in it? The bed faced two sets of windows, between which sat a writing desk and chair, and there was a wardrobe and chest of drawers in the corner.

Yuri couldn't help but smile. Whilst it might have been nice to think of his mentor living in the luxury of the first bedroom, he could instead imagine Plisetsky-san living much as he always had done; without unnecessary excess, but in comfort. Plisetsky-san opened one of the two doors and poked his head into his new bathroom - all the plumbing was in good order, Yuri thought Mrs Zhelann said with a hint of pride in her voice - and then came out, nodding, pleased. "Da, this is very good. Spasiba."

Mrs Zhelann gave a nod in response and then started speaking again, pointing to the other door. It led to what was obviously a classroom; there were diagrams of all kinds of things on the walls, from mathematical equations to grammatical rules to family trees. There was a blackboard on one wall, covered in several different alphabets - the Common language of the Imperial Court, Northern script, the symbols of the ancient language of the Southern Katsukans. Before the blackboard was a lectern, and facing it a single desk and chair. The rest of the classroom was empty, making the solo desk look incredibly lonely. It was unsettling even, particularly as the room was larger than the bedroom it was connected to... Yuri felt suddenly very fond of Minako-sensei's school in Kara, where he'd been taught with just over a dozen others his own age. The walls had been decorated with art work; as they got older, the displays became more and more sophisticated.

Minako-sensei's classroom was never this  _cold_ either, not even in winter. Perhaps the fondness had less to do with the noisiness of Yuri's old class, and more just its warmth.

But... it had seemed rude to still be wearing his haori coat...

"Good." Plisetsky-san nodded, satisfied, and turned to his apprentice. "Tosuu-kun, please, help me unpack."

After that things happened so quickly Yuri wasn't sure where the hours went. He was so busy he even forgot to be cold. The sun, already dipped under the horizon, finally gave up all the light entirely, and Mrs Zhelann returned to light candles, and -

"Time for dinner." She had to put up a hand to stop Plisetsky-san in his tracks. "No no, just the boy. Dinner with the family is after. Tosoo, come."

Having gone from making order out of Plisetsky-san's things in his new rooms, it was a little jarring when Yuri was thrust into what looked like total chaos in the servants' quarters. It was only towards the end of his meal - a modest but fair share of roast beef and a heap of boiled vegetables - that Yuri appreciated how well Mrs Zhelann had welcomed him in; it was deeply disconcerting when she lead him by his shoulders to one end of the table, barked an obvious order in Northern at the servants already seated and waiting for their portions who immediately moved about to let Yuri sit down next to them. She abandoned him there to take her seat at the head, opposite the butler, and around Yuri conversations restarted, but without him included. What little Minako-sensei had been able to teach him, and the odd phrase that Plisetsky-san would use about the shop, was of little use.

It was lonely. The place was filled with noise, but none that he was part of.

_Victor... where are you? Please... I need you..._

Caught up in his longing, Yuri didn't notice the footman come down from upstairs and whisper into Mrs Zhelann's ear at the head of the table. Those about her noticed her surprise at what the footman had to tell however; she paused just that little bit too long, no matter how schooled her face was. But the nature of the curiosity was told only to Yuri once dinner was abruptly finished - he had to shove his last potato into his mouth before he was instructed to take his plate to the scullery - and Mrs Zhelann plucked him from the queue of people all departing for their responsibilities.

"Whilst our lords and lady dine, Lord Victor has invited you to use the bath-house."

Yuri turned redder than the beetroot he'd just been eating and he started choking on air. _Nani?!_ Before he could stop himself - "Eh?!" Mrs Zhelann's eyebrow twitched, hopefully with amusement. At his appalling manners however Yuri paled and tried to recant his outburst. "Oh Gods, I'm so sorry! I - I don't - umm -"

She raised a hand - Yuri fell obediently silent - and then she simply gestured for him to follow her. She spoke as she marched up a single flight of stairs, and then headed into one of the wings of the Palace. Unexpectedly she started to explain.

"When the peace was being negotiated with Hasetsu Lord Katsuki Toshiya and his family were frequent visitors to Piter, and my Lord Yakov likewise visited Hasetsu many times as well. On one of his visits, my Lord was inspired to commission a Hasetsan-style bath house, to better accommodate Lord Toshiya whenever he came. The Katsuki clan do not visit as much as they once did now, but Lord Victor uses it quite frequently, has done since his return from school. It helps him to relax, he tells me." Mrs Zhelann's face broke for a split second, taking Yuri's breath away. She looked so...  _affectionate_ , just for a moment. And then it was hidden again. "Whilst the family dine, it is guaranteed to not be in use."

They came to the end of the wing, and it was easy to tell which door was for the bath-house; there was a gigantic koi fish painted in stunning detail over the door, distinctly for the Hasetsan style, and an attendant dressed in regally-coloured jimbei was sitting up quickly upon a stool by a bench of towels. Mrs Zhelann opened the door, and Yuri shrivelled in his kimono from the unexpected air.

Enclosed with a tall bamboo fence and slate roof that was open above the bath, it looked like a miniature garden, with moss growing around onyx stepping stones to the step into the spacious barrel bath. Tucked into the corner was the boiler for the bath, the metalwork beautifully decorated, and pipes ran under bamboo coverings to an opening above the bath tub, pouring in steadily. Steam rose from the tub towards the opening in the roof, towards the stars.

For a moment, Yuri was absolutely certain that everything up until then had been a dream. The ferry across the Ribenhai, the four-poster cloud-bed in Urajio, the long, long coach journey to Piter, the Palace... everything. Clearly he was still in his bed in Kara. That was the only explanation, _surely_.

Then Mrs Zhelann spoke again, her Northern accent a sharp reminder that yes, everything really had happened over the last thirty six hours. "If you need anything, just call for Jan outside. He will knock when your time is up, but you have quite some time so you do not need to rush. He will direct you to your rooms after." Yuri felt a little relieved; he had no idea which direction his room was, for all he knew it was directly above him, but he doubted it. Mrs Zhelann then turned to him to address him directly. "Tomorrow morning, please come down at sunrise for breakfast, then see to Mr Plisetsky's final needs. The carriage will take you back to Urajio at ten o'clock. Your board at the Udege Hotel, and your fare on the ferry across the Ribenhai and the coach from Dazaifu to Kara have all been taken care of for you."

Yuri stomach sank. "Oh..." He said, before he could stop himself.

Mrs Zhelann raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it. If Mr Tosoo had a complaint, he ought to bring it up with his employer, not her. She wished him a pleasant night, and then was gone before Yuri could think to ask her anything. He stared at the door through the steam, then turned to the bath.

He didn't realise he would be expected to leave so soon. As disappointment leeched him of his last reserves of energy, he found himself at least able to appreciate that he'd been left in the best place possible to feel despair. He stripped and sprinted to the bath through the cold and sunk into the hot water, letting out a long, long sigh. He concentrated on the sensation of his bones melting, and tried not to think for as long as he could hold it off. All credit to Lord Yakov Feltsman's bath house, Yuri had longer than he would have had otherwise; ten seconds instead of one.

In fairness, they could have just turned the carriage back with him still in it, taken him back to Urajio after depositing Plisetsky-san at the front. But... would he be able to see Victor before he left? He had thought young Lord Yuri had wanted to see him, a minefield that he and Victor hadn't been sure of how to navigate; had they managed to dodge that by simply ensuring that Yuri wasn't there long enough for Lord Yuri to find him?

Yuri cupped water in his hands and washed his face, and breathed. No use worrying about that now, the wise bath water told him. Agreeing reluctantly, Yuri looked about himself, finding the most obvious thing to think of:

This place was incredible.

Not just this wonderful bath house, but everything. Never in his wildest imagination had he ever thought that he would come to a place like this, after spending his childhood gluttonously pouring over every book of history, many of which described the extravagant Palace of Piter, the seat of the Feltsman clan. There were thousands of people in this city that had never seen what Yuri had seen that day, yet here he was; a lowly orphan boy from a easily forgotten town in another territory even, his only link to this place his employer through a long lost connection. And somehow, through the most unlikely series of events, that same orphan boy held the heart of the man who would inherit dominion over this world.

For the first time in a long time, he wished he could tell Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo all about it. In the depths of his mind and heart, Yuri wished to see them always, but any longing to tell them about Victor never survived against every internal rebuke that told him not to. In that bath house, staring at the stars, Yuri truly wished it, so he could tell them how astonishing his life was turning out, and to ask which deity he owed his gratitude to. For every time that he thought he didn't deserve this, any of this, he also thought how lucky he was too.

Keeping watch above him, the Red Raven couldn't exactly smile with her beak, but her eyes twinkled at the same stars. She thought she was very lucky too; now that young Lord Katsuki had finally left the invisible stronghold of the bamboo grove, she was finally having some fun; those same shadows that Yuri had admired were a lot more corporeal than he realised, and she did so enjoy sending demons back to whence they came. None of them were a match for her of course, but their numbers meant she could be inventive at least. The news that Yuri would return so soon was a bit of a drag, but... hmm.

She knew, unlike Yuri, that the reason why he was being sent back so early was because there was a snow storm on its way, and given that Mr Tosuu was taking over Mr Plisetsky's business it made sense to ensure he did not end up being stuck in Piter unnecessarily. She also knew that Yuri might have been reckless enough to have come to Piter in the first place, but not enough to wander the halls looking for Victor on the single night he was to stay. What a bore that would be.

Easy enough to hurry up a snow storm. For the Red Raven, anyway.

Ah, excellent. Another demon appeared, slinking sneakily across the rooftop of the palace wing. Small fry, but one shouldn't complain too much. Oh, this trip was starting to look very promising indeed!

* * *

xliv

* * *

When the coast was clear, Makkachin popped his head out from behind the curtain, sniffed, and carried on leisurely. He would run, but even on the plush carpet in the halls that would make too much noise.

The door at the end kindly opened itself for him. How obliging! They never did that; the last time a servant accidentally left this door open Victor had to run after Makkachin to stop him ransacking the kitchens downstairs. Makkachin sniffed the door, and had to stop himself from barking joyously; he liked the bird-woman. Mila, she said her name was. She smelt... odd. Nice, but odd. Like she wasn't a human or a bird.

At the dark stairs, the scrumptious smells of the kitchen wafted up from below, and Makkachin whimpered quietly. How he wanted to go down for a treat! Mrs Zhelann was always so cross when he went to see her downstairs, but then she would sneak him some food anyway; it was their secret, she said many times, stroking his soft ears. Makkachin loved Mrs Zhelann; Mrs Zhelann loved Victor, so Makkachin loved her. But he couldn't let her see him, and he could smell something else... ah! He headed upstairs, quickly, because there was no softening his paws on the wooden staircase.

There were a lot of stairs to climb. Makkachin rather wished he could have just flown, but he would have been too big. He had to pause at the top for a second, partly because it was so far up, but also because even though he couldn't see anything in the dark there were a lot of new smells; he'd never been up to the very top before, never. So exciting! Ah! He could smell - he put his nose to the floor and followed it, turning this way and then that way, then down there and up there, and -

He almost walked into the door. He nearly barked victoriously again, but instead pawed at the door, hoping that Mila would open this one for him too. She didn't; eventually, after scratching at the gap under the door, grumbling his annoyance when nothing happened at all, the door opened and - 

YURI!

Makkachin finally barked with overwhelming happiness as one of his favourite humans peered at him with surprise, and he jumped up at Yuri to give him a kiss. Yuri fell backwards, making it all the easier to give him lots and lots of kisses. Yuri was here! He'd found him! He needed to fetch Yuri to Victor, and be told what a good boy he was! Makkachin gave Yuri another kiss as he stroked his head - Yuri was  _so_ good at stroking him, it felt so nice - and then he clambered off of Yuri and went back to the door waiting.  _Let's go to Victor!_

"I..." Yuri hesitated. Makkachin stopped wagging his tail and tilted his head in confusion. What was Yuri doing? Did he not want to go to Victor? But... but!

Makkachin went back to Yuri, took a mouthful of his sleeve, and tugged.  _Come on!_

"Makka, I - it -" Makkachin paused, let go of Yuri's sleeve. All of his own accord, wasn't he such a good boy?! But he didn't understand what Yuri was saying; it was just noise to him. Normally Makkachin was better at understanding what people said, even when they didn't expect him to.

Yuri looked at the door. Hmm... Makkachin sniffed; Yuri smelt bad. Of worry and stress. No! That was not good! Makkachin would take Yuri to Victor; then they would both smell happy and nice. He grabbed Yuri's sleeve again, and this time didn't let go, growling when Yuri tugged.  _No! Go to Victor! Victor needs you too! He smells bad too! Makkachin must make Victor and Yuri smell happy and good!_

"Alright, alright!" Oooh... did that mean Yuri was coming? Good! "Just... wait..." Yuri grabbed a blanket, wrapped himself with it, went to the fireplace and lit a candle from the dying embers. "Right, let's... let's go..."

Makkachin led the way back through the corridors, Yuri occasionally calling out to him in panicked whispers when the poodle went a bit too far out of the candle-light. They passed many doors with light spilling out under them, quiet noises from within; it was late, even the servants had retired for the night. When they came to the stairs they stopped, both peering into the darkness, hoping no one would come up. Makkachin whimpered as he stuck his leg out to try and reach the step below; it was quite a reach. Yuri chuckled quietly and bent down, picked the poodle up carefully, and descended, whispering for the dog to tell him when to stop. Makkachin didn't need to do much; the door was still open, and he wriggled in Yuri's arms when it was alright to be let down, and led the way again. When they came to the right door, Makkachin happily sat before it, waiting for Yuri to do the honours.

"It... this is the right one, yes?" Makkachin wagged his tail. Of course it was the right door, he would hardly take him to _Christophe's_ door, would he? Yuri finally knocked on the door.

It swung open almost immediately, and Makkachin wagged his tail even harder. Hadn't he been such a good boy!

"Yuri..."

Victor and Yuri stared at each other for moment. Then, just as Makkachin started to worry that maybe he had been a bad boy and they were going to smell even worse, Yuri made a strange noise and almost flung him into Victor's open arms. The force of it pushed Victor back a few steps as he closed his arms around his Yuri, the two holding on to each other as tightly as they could.

They smelt good now. Makkachin wagged his tail as he followed into the room, butted the door closed after them, and went to curl up in his favourite chair.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Took. FOREVER to write... I'm so sorry! I'm afraid updates are going to take just as long from now on, for reasons I'll explain in bit...
> 
> First, some credits: the description of the landscape, from "Evergreen dark...", was inspired by a train journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow in late January, and a Christmas Day walk with the dog in the local National Trust estate. And of course, The Palace of Piter is inspired by the Winter Palace of St Petersburg, which I have never seen with my own eyes. Naturally, I've taken some very big liberties. It's also drawn influence from the brilliant film 'Gosford Park'. Sorry for the repetitions of walls and gates, but I hope their significance is not lost on you; the common folk do not have access.
> 
> So, news: this chapter was posted from a hostel in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I'm on my way to a TEFL internship starting in Bangkok! Please wish me luck! As a result, well... I have no idea how much free time I'm genuinely going to have. I'm going to write a fair chunk of the next chapter before I start - it's like a furnace here. There's no way that I want to be out and about much after lunch time, and then at sunset it's Mosquito Hour where you get a hundred bites instead of one, so I'm not heading out of the hostel until it's gone dark and even then a lot of insect repellant is included.
> 
> So... yeah, it might be a wait. As such I'm also abandoning having a particular day to post on. Those that comment will essentially get advance notice; I wrote this End Note after I finished drafting the entire chapter, so as I start to edit it I'll start replying to the comments from the last chapter.
> 
> For those waiting for an update on Everything On The Ice... it's coming. Also slowly. Really slowly, but it is not ABANDONED. It's on a really long hiatus, but there is a next chapter in the works and I am going to draft more of it by pen when it hits. Need to find a very decent cafe for it.
> 
> Otherwise... I think that's it. So yeah, in a new country, new job soon... I don't like to boast, but... I LOVE MY LIFE AT THE MOMENT.
> 
> Hope this finds you all very well too :-) Please let me know what you thought of the chapter (I know that most of it is just world-building). Every kudos, bookmark and comment make my day! xx
> 
> P.S.: recently I passed 10,000 hits combined for all my works! That might not seem a lot perhaps in comparison to others, but still... :-D :-D :-D


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